


The Time that is Given to Us

by Aquila_Star



Series: Powers of Persuasion [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, POV switch, Smut, Timestamp, many feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6996154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquila_Star/pseuds/Aquila_Star
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TIMESTAMPS, WOO! Seriously, though, every chapter will be a new timestamp from the Powers of Persuasion universe. I have no timeline for their release, it all depends on when I write them and how quickly. Not in chronological order! </p><p>I have a fair few timestamps in mind, and I may write some or all of them, or perhaps I'll think of a few more. If anyone has a timestamp they'd like to see, let me know and I will take it under consideration. If I'm inspired, it will appear. </p><p>Each chapter will have its own summary. :) The rating is explicit because I am prepared for the worst...or the best, lol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Make our Own Luck

**Author's Note:**

> Life moved forward at a snail's pace, or so it seemed to Sigrid. Time was meaningless when the same thing happened every day, but once the change occurred, everything shifted, time began and ran away with her. 
> 
> or
> 
> How Sigrid won the heart of a Prince, without even trying, and how he won hers.

Sigrid could not believe just how dramatically her life had changed in the last few months. She had faced the upcoming winter thinking it would be another cold, hungry season until spring rescued them once more, but that had all changed one November afternoon, when thirteen Dwarves and one Hobbit climbed out of their toilet and changed everything. 

When Tilda asked if they would bring luck, Sigrid scoffed at her sister's naivete. Her Da had figured out their plan pretty quickly and had landed firmly on the opposite side, opposing them to the Master and the town, but it hadn't worked. Sigrid understood why he had been against the plan to retake Erebor, and he had been right. The dragon could easily have killed them all, and had killed quite a few people in the town, including some that Sigrid had been fond of. 

The battle killed even more. 

And yet, despite all that had happened after, she could not regret it. She soon found herself firmly on the side of the Dwarves, even before things had worked themselves out, and while it was ridiculous and completely shallow of her to feel that way, she hadn't wanted the Dwarves to die. 

She hadn't wanted Fili to die. 

Truthfully, she didn't want anyone to die. Unfortunately, those choices were not hers to make. She was a simple girl from Laketown, nothing special in the grand scheme of things. Things changed pretty fast after the Dwarves came, and she was still trying to figure out how it had happened. 

Her life had changed in ways she hadn't anticipated, not just in her position with the people, but in her personal life, in that, after the Dwarves came, she actually had one. 

She felt like a pathetic schoolgirl, but as soon as she'd seen him, her heart had started pounding and her palms got a little clammy. By being unobtrusive and listening carefully, she'd heard his brother call him by name, and decided that he must be important amongst the Dwarves, despite looking rather young, because he was in the inner circle of discussions with Thorin, who was their leader as had quickly become apparent. Watching and listening could net a person an awful lot of information, she'd found.

She assumed he'd not even noticed her, many people didn't after all, and usually that pleased her. This was the first time in her memory that she'd wanted to be noticed by anyone, other than her Da. 

Abruptly, the Company was gone. Their tiny house, which had felt crowded beyond belief while they were there, seemed oddly empty now that they had taken themselves off, sneaking out just before sunset, leaving a silence in their wake that Sigrid had never noticed before. 

Her Da had been angry and tense when the Master had taken in the Dwarves and resupplied them, sending them off to the mountain with a rather pathetic fanfare. He'd been pacing their small house all that morning, frustrated energy burning him up with nowhere to go. Sigrid had felt lost, unsure of what to do, of what to say. There was no precedent for this situation, and she was worried. For the town, for her siblings. For her Da. 

For the Dwarves. 

And then, inexplicably, they were back. Well, some of them, at least. Sigrid had been honestly surprised when Da had let them in, he'd said he was done with Dwarves and she'd believed him. Then she'd seen Kili, the brother, and how horribly sick he looked, and her surprised faded. She knew Da would do whatever he could for Kili after that. He wasn't just sick, he was injured, and while her Da liked to act tough and unaffected, but she knew he cared deeply for their people. For people in general. 

But it had been hopeless. None of their medicines would help. Sigrid could tell from looking at him that it was some kind of poison. It was like nothing she'd ever seen. She paced along the edges of the room, boiling water, making tea, providing Oin with whatever he needed, feeling hopeless and frustrated that she couldn't help. Her stomach clenched and her heart ached to see Fili so distraught, and of course, she chastised herself for feeling that way. Her care and her heart should be with Kili, he was the one who was dying, but although she worried and felt bad for him, it was his brother who had claimed her attention. 

They were close, it was obvious. Fili was the elder, that much was plain as well. He looked frantic and frustrated, helpless in the force of his brother's illness, and Sigrid knew the feeling. It was how she had felt ten years ago, just a child, when her sister had been born and her mother had faded. 

If Kili died, his brother would be bereft. She had been there, and she would not wish such a fate on anyone. 

Sigrid had never been so terrified in her life. Her Da had gone, had been arrested, when Bain had come back alone with the news, she had felt herself shaking from the inside out. Kili was looking worse, the lake shook from whatever was happening in the mountain and the Dwarves were looking more tense and hopeless by the minute. 

Then the Orcs came. 

Panic and frantic adrenaline surged through her, and if Fili and Oin had not been there, they would have died long before the Elves had burst into the house, dispatching the Orcs handily, leaving a different kind of broken silence behind. 

The night had been a lesson in just how mad life could become, from one moment to the next. 

The Elf stayed, the one she soon learned was called Tauriel. She prepared a poultice, pressing it into Kili's wound while chanting words that were clearly a prayer of desperation, a desperation that was felt by everyone in the destroyed house, and when she'd glowed with a pure, radiant light, Sigrid had felt a calm pour over her, surging across Kili's body into her arms. 

When it was all over and Kili was resting more easily, she had retreated to the kitchen, what was left of it, and had breathed out her panic in deep gasping breaths, afraid that the terror would overwhelm her when the adrenaline had worn off. 

“Are you okay?”

Sigrid looked up from where her head was bowed between her shaking arms, braced on the sink, white knuckled and despairing. 

She met his sharp blue eyes and felt the adrenaline fade, her whole body shaking with violent tremors.

“I...no, I...” she gasped, and then he was beside her, one broad hand on her back, rubbing firmly, the other clutching hers where it clutched the edge of the sink. 

“Breathe,” he said, his steady presence anchoring her to the present, the calm descending after the chaos. 

She tried, but her breaths came quickly and short, and she knew she was hyperventilating. 

“Stop,” he said harshly, grasping her forearm and her shoulder so tightly it almost hurt. “Stop and look at me.”

His voice was compelling enough that she did, her focus shifted from her own racing heart and gasping breaths to his calm eyes and soft voice, a wild thought racing through her mind that his lips looked soft as well, and that he was very close to her. Very close. 

“Good, now breathe, in through the nose,” he said, inhaling a breath in demonstration, and she copied him. “Now out,” he continued, following with a long exhale from his mouth, and she watched his lips again, but did as he said, then did it again, breathing in time with his breaths, for a mere moment that felt like an eternity. 

“Good, that's good,” he said once she'd calmed, his hand on her shoulder sliding down, rubbing her back once more, its weight a comfort. 

“Okay,” she said after a moment, her eyes still held by his gaze. “I'm okay, I think I'll be okay.”

“I think you will,” he said, smiling a small, crooked smile that made her heart speed up once more. “It's Sigrid, right?”

She nodded, standing up straight, regretting it immediately when his hands fell away and he took a step back. 

“I'm Fili.”

“Yes, I'd...heard,” she said stupidly, wondering if the fading adrenaline and the horror of the night had broken her brain. 

He smiled again, a bit brighter, and she thought perhaps it had broken him as well, if he thought she was in any way interesting. 

“Thank you for what you did, for your help. He's going to be all right.”

“I'm glad,” she replied, trying to pull her thoughts together. “Thank you for saving us from the Orcs. I've never...” she trailed off, but his eyes spoke of his understanding. 

“You're welcome. I hope you never have to see such creatures again.” 

“Me too,” she said simply, smiling back at him. He held her eyes for another moment and then nodded, turning to go back to his brother's side, and she was surprised when she she saw him navigate the room, realising how short he was compared to her, more surprised when she realised that she'd forgotten it during their conversation. His presence was larger than life, it was easy to forget that he was only just taller than Tilda. But he was broad and stocky and looked powerful. Her stomach flipped a bit, but she shook her head and set to sorting out the kitchen, glancing towards Fili every few minutes as he cleared the main room of Orcs and debris, with the help of Bofur and Oin and Bain. 

Her heart was pounding all over again, and she knew that something had shifted inside her. Their conversation on the balcony only served to solidify the shift.

She kept the memory in her mind during the days that followed, the days after they'd escaped from Laketown together, Tauriel driving them on with a canny wisdom. She kept his soft, calming voice and his disarming sense of humour, the soft, earthy scent of his coat that she'd worn briefly, the smooth, sour taste of pipeweed...she pulled those fleeting memories close after he'd gone to the mountain, after her city lay in smoking remnants around the dragon's watery grave. 

She let his stoic strength give her the inspiration she needed as she followed her Da to Dale, as she protected her siblings the best she knew how when the Orcs had descended once more. When she came out on the other side, alive, her family alive beside her, she'd allowed herself to remember how warm and close and alive he'd been, and she prayed to both Eru and Ulmo that Fili had survived the battle, that his family was safe. One Valar may be enough, but praying to both would not hurt, would it? 

For that matter, three would be even better, so she whispered a quick prayer to Aule as well, knowing that he was the Creator of the Dwarves, and the one most likely to have an influence over their fate.

Sigrid laboured in the impromptu camp that the Elves had helped them set up, assisting anyone who needed her, with healing, with food preparation, with running errands and fetching whatever was needed. She tried to encourage the people she met, to ease their fears and doubts about the future. She was desperate for information and listened carefully to everything that was spoken, wishing she could understand the Elves when they spoke their own language. She was grateful then that Fili was Thorin's nephew, that he was royalty and that as such, people would be taking about him, as well as his uncle and brother, about their fates after the battle. 

It was a full day after the battle before she'd learned that Fili had lived, though just barely. The whole story had come out in bits and pieces, how Tauriel had followed Kili up Ravenhill and saved his life again, how they had worked together and had survived. Sigrid wasn't very surprised, it was plain to anyone who had spent even a moment with them that Kili and Tauriel shared very mutual affection for each other. They were intense and devoted, a fact that Sigrid was in no doubt about, having seen Tauriel's healing of him first hand, having felt the power of it in her own hands. 

Then she learned that Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, was alive as well, that the Hobbit had followed in the same manner, and had saved his life even more dramatically than Tauriel had Kili. Sigrid heard the story told in hushed, reverent whispers, how Bilbo Baggins had stabbed Azog the Defiler, allowing Thorin a last, desperate chance to kill him. Sigrid had never heard of the Pale Orc before, she'd had no real concept of Orcs at all, discovering after the fact that he'd sworn to wipe out the line of Durin, Thorin's line, which included Kili. And Fili. 

The chance that he could have succeeded chilled her to the bone. 

Fili's story had come out around the same time as Thorin's and the first time she'd heard it, her heart had skipped a few beats. Fili had come the closest to dying, he'd been stabbed by Azog and thrown from a tower, and the fact that he was still alive was a miracle, of luck and chance as much as the healing skill and magic of the Elven King.

Then she'd found out that, while Thorin and Kili were mostly whole, Fili had not awoken. It was two days after the battle when she'd learned about that, after meeting Tauriel again. After giving the Elf a tight hug, she had pleaded for news, for confirmation of the rumours that she had heard. 

“Is he alive?” she asked Tauriel, searching her face for a clue. 

“I can only assume you're asking about Fili,” Tauriel said, lifting a brow, a small smile quirking her lips. 

“I...yes, I mean,” Sigrid stuttered, flushing and looking down, realising that she was giving her feelings away without restraint. Tauriel merely smiled at her, taking her hand and squeezing. 

“Don't worry, we already know,” she said tenderly. 

“You know...I don't...” Sigrid fumbled over the words, wondering just what Tauriel knew, and if the we she spoke of was merely herself and Kili. She wasn't sure just why it was so important, perhaps because it was new and uncertain, and they'd really only spent one night in each others company. It was far too soon to hope for anything more than friendship, and yet, she did. 

“We were there that night, Kili and I,” Tauriel said, pulling her to the side a bit, away from the main path between the tents. “We saw the regard shared between you and Fili. You can trust that we will not speak of it, until the two of you are willing. However, I can allay your doubts by telling you that it was a very mutual regard, from where we were sitting.”

“It was?” Sigrid said, her breath escaping in a sigh. She'd felt very close to Fili that night, as if it was the beginning of something bigger, and she'd been certain he felt it, too. To know that Tauriel and Kili had also seen it gave her heart ease. “Oh, that's...good.”

“Fili is indeed alive,” Tauriel said, and if Sigrid didn't know any better, she'd have sworn her heart started beating in that moment. She closed her eyes, letting out a deep, relieved breath. “He was gravely injured,” Tauriel continued, her voice low and serious. “He has a dislocated shoulder and broken arm, several broken ribs and a very serious sword wound in his back. It missed his spine however, so he will walk again, in fact, Lord Thranduil is sure he will make a complete recovery.”

Sigrid did not even try to restrain the smile that spread across her face. Even if nothing more came after, it was enough. He was alive.

“He is not assured of that yet, however,” Tauriel said, her eyes somber and compassionate. “Fili was nearly hypothermic when he was found, and while that may have slowed the bleeding and saved his life, there may yet be repercussions. Also, he hit his head when he fell, and he certainly has a concussion. He is still unconscious, and we have no idea how long he will remain so. His other wounds have been dealt with acceptably, but until he wakes up, we won't know for certain.”

“He could still die?” Sigrid asked, feeling as if her heart had stopped once more. 

“He could,” Tauriel said. “But I doubt he will, and Thranduil is certain he will wake. He is strong, Sigrid, and young. And Dwarves are unlike Men and Elves, they are hardier and heal more quickly. They can recover from wounds that would kill one of your race, or cripple one of mine.”

“Yes, I...carved from stone, that's how the story goes, is it not?”

“Indeed. And stone does not damage easily. It endures.”

“Yes, good,” Sigrid sighed, letting hope fill her heart, hope that he would wake, and live, and that he would want to see her again. “Can you tell me, when he wakes? Can you tell him, that I'm thinking of him?”

“If the chance presents itself, I will,” Tauriel agreed. “But for now, we have other tasks. I am going to see Kili now, would you like to come? Perhaps, along the way, I can show you Fili's tent. Then, we can all find a meal.”

“Yes, I...I'd like that very much.” Sigrid smiled, pleased to find a friend in Tauriel. She had lost so many of the people she'd known, and while most of her friends had survived, she felt distanced from them. Already, her status as daughter of Bard, newly appointed Master of Dale, appointed by the people's demand and not his own choice, had put her in a very visible position. She was determined to make her Da proud. Fostering relationships with Elves and Dwarves was a good start, she assured herself, as she followed Sigrid towards the Dwarven camp just outside the gates of Erebor. 

 

* * *

 

Six long, uncertain days followed, with Sigrid working herself into exhaustion every night, falling onto the pallet she shared with Tilda, limp and ready to sleep. Even then, her brain kept her awake. She spent time doing any and every chore she could, she shadowed her Da to help him from time to time, she spent hours here and there with Tauriel and sometimes Kili as well. She helped set up a communal kitchen for the Men, especially once it had been determined that the Elves were soon to leave. She organized a daycare and school in one of the bigger tents, a place where the children could be safe and cared for by people they knew, as many mothers of small children and the few school teachers that had survived the dragon took over the direction and education of the youngest. 

It took the burden of Tilda off her shoulders for a few hours a day, which she could only count as a blessing. She adored her little sister, but Tilda had a shrewd sense of observation, and possessed an uncanny ability to ask the most pertinent questions at inconvenient times. 

Questions like why Sigrid insisted on walking the long way through camp, past the healers tents, instead of taking the shortest route from one place to another. The Dwarven tents were closest to the gates of Erebor, and the Men's were closer to Dale, but the healing tents lay in the middle, housing patients from all races. Sigrid found herself walking past them several times a day, unable to stay away, and yet hoping that her vigil would go unnoticed. 

There was nothing much going on there, now that most of the injured had either died or healed satisfactorily, and those left were in a state like Fili, unconscious, or unable to move on their own just yet. It was a calm few days, once the initial rush of triage and healing had been accomplished. According to Tauriel, the Elves had helped as much as they were able, healing other Elves, Men and Dwarves alike, but they were coming to the end of their usefulness and having received their promised treasure, were making plans to depart for home. 

Sigrid was not looking forward to them leaving, for fear that Tauriel may go with them, but also because the Elven King had been instrumental in healing Fili, although Tauriel assured her that he could do now more, that it was up to Fili to wake and continue the healing process.

It was a long, exhausting week, filled with an array of emotional and physical experiences. Sigrid was somewhat overwhelmed, but also pleased with the work. She had found a purpose, outside of her own family, and she enjoyed being of use. And with winter coming, it didn't seem that the need was going away any time soon. 

Sigrid ate dinner with her family, listening to her Da discussing the going on about camp. Apparently Bilbo Baggins was leaving in two days time, along with Gandalf, the wizard. Da was surprised, and so was Sigrid. From everything she'd heard and seen, Bilbo and Thorin were very much together, not that she'd spent a lot of time observing them. She'd been far too busy, and Thorin was the King, after all. Her Da was getting to know him quite well, however, and he confirmed that the King and the Hobbit were exceptionally close. 

She was disrupted from her thoughts when Tauriel slipped into the mess tent, her eyes wide as she found Sigrid's immediately. She gave Sigrid a significant look and nodded toward the door before slipping through again. Sigrid quickly made her excuses to her Da and slipped out after Tauriel, before Tilda could follow her. 

Tauriel was right there, grasping Sigrid's hand and leading her away, to a quiet alley between several of the tents. 

“He's awake,” she said simply, her eyes expressing her pleasure, which was no doubt influenced by Kili's happiness. “Just a few minutes ago, and he's fine.”

“Awake,” Sigrid breathed, stunned and overjoyed and so, so relieved. She pulled Tauriel into a hug, not missing the tense surprise in Tauriel before she relaxed, embracing Sigrid in return.

“Yes, he's sitting up and talking,” Tauriel said, once Sigrid had been able to let do. “And he was quite pleased to hear you'd been thinking about him. He wished me to tell you that he's thinking of you as well. And that he looks forward to seeing you.”

“He said...” Sigrid could feel her cheeks heating up. “Oh. Well, that's...I'm glad to hear it.” She couldn't seem to get her thoughts together, her brain felt scattered and foggy, but through it all she could focus on one, shining thing. 

He was awake. And he wanted to see her.

 

* * *

 

Sigrid found her chance two days later, early in the morning, when all the Dwarves were saying goodbye to Bilbo. She had found him the day before and hugged him tightly, wishing him safety on his journey home. She hadn't come to know the Hobbit well, but he had a way of making a person feel at ease and important, and she had come to appreciate his sense of humour during the short time they'd spent together. He was an exceptional person. 

So she knew he wouldn't mind if she used the distraction of his departure to sneak a quick visit with Fili. She had risen earlier than usual that day, and had taken up a position not far off from Fili's tent, a stack of bedding in her hands. She watched as Kili and Bilbo entered the tent, exiting soon after, noticing Bilbo's subdued manner and teary eyes as they left. 

As they walked away, Sigrid steeled herself, drawing in a deep breath before striding forward purposefully, pushing aside the flap of the door and ducking inside. She stood in the entrance, frozen now that she was there, despite knowing that he was alive and awake, seeing it with her own eyes was a different matter entirely. 

“Sigrid,” he said softly, his voice low and rich and she realised then how much she had missed hearing it. She scoffed at herself in her own head, it wasn't as if they'd spent much time together, and yet...

“Fili,” she replied, barely above a whisper, taking in the sight of him more carefully, now that the shock had passed. “You look awful.”

He did. His eyes were wet and a bit red, but that wasn't what struck her. One side of his body had clearly taken the brunt of his injuries, his right arm was secured in a splint, and a sling held it close to his body, no doubt to prevent any strain on his shoulder. He was sitting up slightly, propped into place with many large pillows, his skin pale and his hair unbraided, pulled back out of his face with a simple tie at the base of his neck. His moustache was also unbraided which, in a strange way, made him look younger. 

The worst of his injuries was the black and purple bruise that spread from his eyebrow and across his temple and cheekbone, disappearing into his golden blond hair. But he was awake, his eyes bright, a soft smile spreading as he gazed at her. 

“Thank you,” he said, lifting a brow but then wincing as the bruise shifted. 

“Oh, I didn't mean, I mean, you look...”she babbled, cutting herself off and taking a deep breath. His cheeky smile told her that he knew exactly what she'd meant, so she brushed it aside, taking a deep breath and smiling back. 

She moved forward, placing the linens on a side table.

“Did you come to deliver new bedding? Or dare I hope that you came to see me?” She could feel his eyes on her as she moved further into the tent, but far from making her nervous, his gaze imbued her with a boldness she'd never experienced before. 

“No, the bedding is just a decoy,” she said, forgoing the stool at his bedside to sit beside him on the cot, facing him, her hip pressed against his. His look of surprise threw her off, and she wondered if she'd gone too far, until he reached out and took her hand in his good one, letting his fingers trace lightly across her palm. 

“Good. You have wonderful timing. I was feeling rather sorry for myself, seeing as Oin won't allow me to leave my bed, even to say goodbye to Bilbo...but now that you're here, I'm finding it much easier to accept.”

She blushed, unable to keep from grinning like a fool. He may look worse for the wear, but he sounded the same, his tone light and teasing, his words earnest and his eyes as entrancing as ever. 

“I'm glad you are confined,” she replied. “I wasn't sure if I should come by, but I'm glad I did. I admit, I knew the others would be occupied when I came. How are you feeling, really?”

“I've been better,” he admitted, his hand warm and firm where it held hers. “But I'm healing, and Oin says it won't be long before I'll be up and about.”

“I'm very glad to hear it.” Their eyes met and held, and Sigrid felt awkward and comfortable at the same time, unsure of what to say, now that she was beside him. 

“I'm glad you're glad,” he said, pulling her hand up and brushing a kiss across her knuckles, a shiver washing over her at the feel of his soft lips, his beard ticking her fingers. “I had hoped I would see you soon. I hope you know that I'd like to see you a lot more, now that it's all done. The dragon is dead, the Orcs are defeated, and the mountain is ours.”

“I want to see you more, as well,” she told him, her heart pounding. 

“I meant what I said. That night, in Laketown. I'm still hoping you'll want to be my friend.”

“You said you'd wish for more, perhaps,” she replied, remembering the night clearly, the way his gaze and his touch had heated her, the cold air nothing against the warmth of his hand holding hers. 

“I still do.”

“Is it...I mean, will it be allowed? For us to be...close,” she said, unsure of how to express herself plainly. 

“Because you're not a Dwarf, you mean,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing a gentle caress across her hand, soothing her even as goosebumps arose down her arms. 

“Yes. You are the heir to the throne of Erebor. I'm sure that comes with...responsibilities.” She was genuinely worried about how it would even work, despite her heart telling her that she could very quickly fall completely in love with him. He cared about her as well, it was clear, but love and affection were not the only things that must be considered, and their situation was unique.

“It does,” he said, nodding his head in confirmation. “But it also comes with privilege, one that I will certainly be taking advantage of. I'd like to know you better, and after all, are you not to soon be a Princess of Dale?”

She could not help the blush, looking down at where their hands were joined, tracing the line of his wrist with her other hand. “I'm sure I don't know anything about that. The people have named my Da the Master of Dale, but other than that, I cannot say.”

“Still, it is an important position. One which will no doubt allow us many chances to spend time together.”

“Da has been saying that we will likely be spending the winter in the mountain,” she said, looking up at him again, excited at the very idea. Being in the mountain all winter would be safe and warm, among other things. 

“Did he? Well, then, that settles it. We'll have plenty of time.”

“I hope so,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I'd very much like to spend time with you as well, as much as we can manage. Though perhaps we should be...discreet, for now. Until things are settled.”

“Until things in the mountain are settled, or things between us?” His brow was furrowed, his tone subdued.

“Perhaps both.” She felt weighted, heavy, knowing that whatever was developing between them may never have the chance to grow fully. 

“All right. To be honest, I'm not keen to share my heart with any but you, at the moment. Well, besides my brother, and I suppose Tauriel. But they will be thinking along the same lines, and will be too busy with their own courtship to worry about ours.”

“Oh,” she said, stunned and ecstatic at once. “Courtship. I...is that what this is, then?”

“If you want it, yes,” he told her, pulling her hand closer, his thumb still moving across her knuckles, sending shivers of delight across her skin. 

“I...yes, I do,” she said, smiling widely. “Very much.”

“Good.” He kissed her knuckles again, and as nice as it was, she felt that something else was needed to convey how pleased she was, how much she wanted whatever was between them to grow. She took a deep breath, using his smile and his warm touch as inspiration and leaned forward. 

She hesitated, her eyes flickering to his lips before meeting his eyes again, the warmth and wonder she saw inside them spurring her on. This close, she could feel the heat of his body, could smell the clean scent of his skin. She took one last breath for strength and moved closer, pressing her lips against his gently. 

It was only a moment before she pulled back, her head spinning with her daring, but then he let go of her hand and cupped her cheek, bringing her close and kissing her again, his lips moving gently across hers. When they parted, he held her close still, pressing his forehead to hers and breathing deeply. It was an intimate gesture, even more than the kiss, and she let her eyes drift open, to find his open as well, hot and dark and looking right into her. 

“I hope that will not be the last,” he said quietly, as she sat up straighter, her cheeks hot, and no doubt red.

“It won't,” she said, certain that it would not be. To prove she was telling the truth, she leaned in and kissed him again, shivering as his fingers traced a line down her cheek, realising that her hand had moved, and was pressing against his broad chest, his skin warm under the thin fabric of his tunic. His shoulders were wide and strong, his chest and arms thick with muscle. While seated, he seemed bigger than she was, their respective heights forgotten. 

Voices passing close outside the tent startled her, and she pulled back, looking to the doorway, relived to find no one there. 

“I should go,” she said, turning back to look at him, unable to keep from glancing at his lips again before meeting his eyes.

“You should,” he replied, catching her hand again. “But I don't want you to.”

“I don't want to, either. But I must, if we intend to keep this between us for now.”

He smiled, kissing her knuckles again. “For now.”

“I'll come back when I can,” she said, standing quickly, before she could be tempted to kiss him again. 

“I'll be out of this cot soon” he said. “I'll come to see you.”

“I'll hold you to it,” she said, brushing a stray hair out of his face with a smile before backing off, turning to give him one last smile before slipping out of the tent and away. 

 

* * * 

 

The next few weeks were a blur. Sigrid hardly saw Fili at all before they all moved into the mountain, though the Dwarves and Men worked together to clear as much rubble from the gates as they could, as well as clearing space in the Great Halls for use as sleeping quarters. There was a large common area near the kitchens, both of which were more or less untouched by anything but time, and were easy to clean out and put to use. 

Once they'd moved in and settled, Sigrid found that she had a remarkable amount of time with Fili. He healed quickly once he was up, although she noticed him favouring his right arm whenever he had pushed his healing a bit. For the most part, he kept to less physical jobs, having convinced his Uncle that he would take charge of the relations between the Dwarves of Erebor and the Men of Dale. He threw himself into the work, and Sigrid could see the future King Under the Mountain taking shape before her eyes. 

If Thorin suspected a less prosaic reason for his passionate pursuit of healthy, close relations between the groups, he didn't speak of it. Sigrid was certain that Fili would have told her, if such a discussion had taken place. 

Not only were they able to work closely together on a regular basis, they were able to slip away from the crowds, as well. Fili showed her as much of the mountain as he could, as much as was safe, although he admitted that he didn't know it very well yet. He had been born long after the dragon had come, and was himself still learning the secrets of Erebor. 

It was on such a day in late December that he took her to an upper hall, one that, amazingly, had large windows cut high into the mountainside. The room was bright and cheerful during daylight, and even at night, the light of the moon and stars speckled it with a subdued radiance. 

“Sigrid,” he said, after watching her explore the room, gazing at the many tapestries, still in excellent condition, if a little dusty with age. 

“Yes?” she asked, turning around to see him looking dreadfully serious as he gazed at her, yet his blue eyes were as soft as ever. 

“We haven't spoken of our courtship since the first day, after I'd awoken. I think we should.”

“Oh,” she replied, walking toward him across the room, loving the feel of the sun on her skin, however little there was reaching her through the windows. She knew this room would quickly become a favourite. 

“Is there more to say? Or,” she stopped, suddenly worried that he didn't want to continue their courtship. “Do you want to end it, then?” she asked, unable to keep her voice level and calm as she asked. 

“No!” he said, closing the distance between them quickly, picking up one of her hands and bringing it to his lips as he often did. It never failed to thrill her when he did, and when he pulled her hand to press against his chest after, looking up at her with bright eyes, she felt the doubt fading. 

“No, Sigrid, no,” he continued. “Quite the opposite.”

“Oh, I'm glad,” she said, relieved, letting a pleased smile curve her lips. 

“No, it's too late for me now,” he said, his face taking on a serious expression once more. 

“Too late?”

“Yes. Far too late, it has been for a long time now. Dwarves love only once, my darling Sigrid. And I have loved you since Laketown.”

“Since Laketown!” she exclaimed, stunned. It felt like an age ago, although scarcely a month had passed. “So long!”

“Yes, indeed,” he said, pulling her other hand to his chest as well, holding them both in a firm grasp. “If you had chosen not to continue, I may yet have married another, though I would never have been able to love them. My heart is yours, and yours it will stay.”

“Oh, Fili,” she said, her chest aching and her eyes watering at his earnest declaration. “I love you too, you know. I'm not sure for how long, exactly, but I knew it was inevitable when you kissed me in the healing tent.”

He smirked, the beads braided into his moustache swaying as he tilted his head, observing her closely. “You kissed me, you mean.”

“Well, yes,” she said, her cheeks colouring, although they had shared many kisses in the weeks following the first. “Either way, I knew then that I would love you, come what may.”

“Good,” he said. “Because, if we are to move forward with this courtship, then there is something I must give you.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. Courtships in Laketown generally consisted of spending time together, in public or private, and then, once the couple had decided to get married, the Master performed the traditional ceremony, including the sharing of vows, and that was that. It could take as little or as long as the parties involved wished, but she had come to know that Dwarves were much more ritualistic about many things, and no doubt courtship was the same. 

“Are there particular steps that must be taken?”

“Yes, a few,” he replied, pulling her to the side of the room across from the windows, seating them both on a bench before continuing. “A couple may begin courting at any time, publicly or in secret, as we have done, but the courtship is not official until beads are exchanged, and until they are braided with intent.”

“Oh, I suppose that makes sense. Braids have great meaning in your culture, I believe,” she said, reaching out to finger the braid that was woven above his ear, ending in a lovely silver clasp, bearing the mark she'd learned symbolized the line of Durin.

“Many of them, yes.” He wrapped his hand around hers where it held the braid. “These, beginning above the ear and clasped with the Durin bead, they proclaim my position in the line of succession. Thorin is the King, of course, and while he wears the braids of succession in the same place, his beads are different, the beads of the current Ruler of the House, while mine tell that I am the Heir.”

“Why doesn't Kili wear such beads in his hair?”

“He is welcome to wear a Durin bead, of course, though it would not be the same as mine or Thorin's, but he would weave a braid or several further back on his head, away from the temple. However, he's never cared to bother much about braids, and I doubt he will, at least until his beard comes in a little thicker, and he takes a more active role in the stewardship of the mountain. I do believe he'll bear a courting braid before too long, however. They are working together on Tauriel's bead, and as soon as it is finished, she'll braid it into his hair.”

“So...courting braids then. Is that the next step?” Sigrid was genuinely interested, Dwarven culture was so fascinating. While Fili had told her when she had asked, that Khuzdul was off limits, he encouraged her to ask questions about his culture and heritage, and she found herself more fascinated with every new thing she learned. 

“Yes, we will exchange beads, which we will then put in braids, to signify our intent.”

“Does it have to be something we've made?” she asked, knowing that hand made gifts were seen to be more worthy than purchased ones, for the most part.

“It can be, but in the case of courting beads, it is often a family bead, especially one that has been passed down from generations before. I thought about making one, but since Gloin and his team have made great progress on the treasury, I asked, and sure enough, he'd separated a large stash of beads. I found this...” He pulled something from out of his pocket and held out his hand. Nestled in his palm was a small, delicate bead, imprinted with the signet of Durin's line, its silver surface shining brightly in the pale winter sunlight. 

“Fili, it's beautiful” she breathed, reaching out and stroking it with one finger, marvelling at the intricate workmanship. 

“It's yours, if you choose to accept it. I need to speak to Uncle soon, as time is passing and I know well how little time we'll have together. But I wanted to ask you first, for certain.” He took a deep breath, his grip on her hand tightening in anticipation. 

“Ask me?”

“Will you be my wife, Sigrid of Dale, Bowman's daughter? My heart is already yours, and I wish to give you my body and soul as well, my life and my strength, if you wish to accept it.”

“Yes, please,” she said, looking up at him again, unable to keep her eyes from stinging with happy tears. “Fili, I...yes.”

He beamed at her, his eyes suspiciously moist as well, before pulling her in for a kiss, sealing their lips together with a sweet desperation, opening her to him with a gently prodding tongue, urging her to respond. 

She did, eagerly wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him closer, shivering as his hands wrapped around her body, one open and hot against her back, while the other held her tightly to him, his fist clenched around the bead still in his palm. 

It was the deepest, most intimate kiss they'd shared, and it filled her blood with a tingling anticipation of what was to come, of more kisses and touches, of all the things that would be between them.

She pulled back at last, desperate for breath, burying her face in his lovely golden hair to regain her composure, before pulling back and pressing her brow against his. One of the first things she had learned was the significance of the gesture, whether the gentle press of such quiet, intimate moments, or the more brusque, cracking smack of friends or family. 

“You're right,” she said, remembering what he'd said about the time they would have, or the lack of it. Her race lived barely a third of the time the Dwarves were given, and she couldn't wait to begin, before they had lost much more. “We don't have much time. How soon can we be married? Is there a time line we have to follow?”

“No, and yes,” he replied, pulling back to look at her. “A courtship can be as little as several months or long as several years. But we must gain the approval of our families first. Specifically the heads of our respective families.”

“So we must ask your Uncle and my Da.”

“Yes, and we'll have to do it soon, although I'm loathe to bring it up with my Uncle.”

“Do you think he will refuse?” she asked, fearful of such a thing, although Thorin had given his approval to Kili and Tauriel's courtship. As Fili had explained to her, Thorin himself was bound to the now absent Hobbit, so she wondered if he could still take issue with Fili courting a daughter of Men.

“No, I'm sure he won't, although he will be hesitant, as I am the heir, and it would be preferred if I were to carry on the Durin line. Well, the direct line, at any rate, although there are many in our family who retain some claim to the throne. My cousin Dain, or his son, also called Thorin. Or Gimli, even.”

“It does not need to be a direct succession?”

“Need, no, but the line of Durin has never failed in that regard, although other lines have splintered as time as moved on. It would not be a welcomed change, but it would be respected.” His voice was somber again, and she knew the subject weighed heavily on him. That he would risk a marriage with her, knowing that any child they may be able to produce would likely not be acceptable as a future ruler, spoke volumes of his love for her.

“That is something we will deal with when the time comes. For right now, we must gain the proper approval, however it may hurt my Uncle to see another nephew happily courting. But I would like to give you this, anyway.” He held out the bead and she picked it up, marvelling anew at the fine craftsmanship and exquisite details. 

“Will you braid it into my hair now?”

“No, not until our courtship is official. I must speak with my Uncle first, and then your father. And we must fashion a bead for my braid as well.”

“Oh, of course,” she replied, gasping as a thought came to her, a memory of something that had belonged to her grandmother. “But, I think I have just the thing.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, my grandmother had a small collection of hair beads that were passed on from long ago, no doubt carved in the fashion of the mountain, before the desolation. I brought them from Laketown in a small box that contained some little treasures that my mother and grandmother had cherished.”

“You have beads passed on from your family?”

“Yes. They are not as beautiful or valuable as this, being made only of wood. But they are from family, so I suppose they will fit.”

“They will,” he said, his smile brighter than the sunlight, although she noticed that it was fading as the afternoon passed and time for the evening meal approached. “I would be proud to wear your family's bead.” 

“They you shall. And I will be proud to wear yours.” She smiled so widely that he cheeks ached with the strain, but she could not bring himself to stop. She had believed her feelings to be so foolish on the night they met, more so on the night before the dragon came for them, but now she embraced them fully, secure in the surety of Fili's love. 

She leaned forward and kissed him again, looking happily toward the day when they would do much more. 

 

* * * 

 

Sigrid had no problem finding the beads. She'd kept her mother's treasure box in a safe place, tucked under her bed in the quarters she shared with her family. It felt safe there, as they had been given an apartment in the royal wing, smaller than the suites where Fili lived with his uncle and brother, but even then, much larger than anywhere she'd ever lived before. She had her own room, and it was easily half as large as the entire house they'd shared in Laketown. 

She had been so grateful that they would not spend the winter in a tent, as many of her people had been obliged to, however warm and sheltered the quickly constructed tent city was, situated inside a large gathering hall well back from the gates. The quarters were sparsely furnished, as those constructing new furniture had only just begun working on new pieces, but compared to Laketown, it felt positively luxurious. 

She knew it would only become more so, as the mountain was reconstructed, as the acquisition of necessities was accomplished, and they could turn more to comfort items. She knew that, when she and Fili were married she would be even more pampered and have finer clothes and jewels she would be expected to wear, but she had no real concept of the expectations of the Dwarves, and she hoped it would not be too ostentatious. She preferred more practical clothing and less ornamentation, a direct result of how she was raised, no doubt. 

She had seen the treasure hall, however, and despite the fact that Gloin and his Dwarves had sorted and stored a great amount, it was still more gold than she had ever fathomed in her life, even before Laketown had been destroyed and everyone was talking about the Lord of the Silver Fountains.

Never mind a fountain. The gold was a waterfall that never ended. 

But that wasn't what she was interested in. The only gold in the mountain that Sigrid wanted to have as her own was Fili's beautiful golden hair. The Dwarves and Men alike had begun to call him the Golden Prince, their respect for him growing as he laboured continually on their behalf, ensuring that all those under his care were fed, clothed and had work that suited them. Sigrid watched it all with an immense feeling of pride, stunned each day by his insight and sensitivity. 

He would be an outstanding King, when that day came, although she began to realize that she would likely never see it come to pass. 

It weighed on her, the knowledge that she would be gone before Fili came into his own, and it broke her heart when she thought of all that she would miss. If she was lucky, she would live until he was one hundred and fifty, which, for a Dwarf, was not even considered middle aged.

The fact of an heir weighed on her as well. Sigrid was a realist, and although she had fanciful notions on occasion, such as the one that had overtaken her on the first night she'd met Fili, she was intensely pragmatic in general. She didn't think that a half human heir would be acceptable to the Dwarves of Erebor, and she understood why. They were a proud, insular race, and while they had accepted Kili and Tauriel's courtship with a relatively mild amount of upset considering that Kili was not the Crown Prince and that Tauriel had repeatedly saved his life, she imagined it would not be the same in her own situation. 

But when she was really being honest with herself, she wasn't even sure that they could have children. They were so very different, and while she knew that Elves and Men had mated successfully, the Khazad were not the Children of Eru. They were not shaped by the same hand as the race of Men, even though Iluvatar had given them his blessing and the breath of life. 

She wasn't going to pin her hopes on the slight chance that she could bear Fili's child. She would have to think of another way to provide him with an heir. 

After thinking about it, realistically, pragmatically, she came up with a plan. Fili wasn't going to like it, and to be truthful with herself, she didn't like it either. But sometimes, the necessary thing was not the easy thing. 

 

* * *

 

It was a chilly day in late January when Fili found her, his face flushed with exertion as he pounded down the corridor toward her. She had been walking the path alone, on her way home after a quiet dinner in the mess hall, a dinner she had not shared with Fili. She wasn't sure where he'd been, but she suspected, hoped, that he had used the time to speak with Thorin. He had been building up to it for weeks, even more in the last few days, only his belief that their happiness would hurt his Uncle holding him back. Sigrid had both their beads in her treasure box now, waiting only for the agreement of their respective heads of house to be braided in their traditional Dwarven courtship braids. 

“Sigrid!” he called, dashing toward her, his eyes bright and his face split with a beaming smile.

“There you are,” she replied, turning to wait for him, squealing in surprise as he wrapped her in his arms, picking her up and spinning her around. She clutched at his shoulders, laughing at his joyful exuberance, her heart pounding when she realised that her suspicions were very likely true. 

“I missed you at dinner,” she said after he'd set her down, arms still holding her close, their heads pressed together affectionately.

“I was talking with Thorin.”

“Yes?” she asked, although she knew the answer by the look on his face, her own smile so wide she felt her cheeks begin to ache with it. 

“Yes,” he replied, beaming up at her. “He's agreed, he's given us his blessing.”

She wrapped her arms around him again, tighter, letting him pick her up, lifting her feet off the floor, if only a little. 

“I can't believe it, and yet, I knew he would,” Fili continued, one of his hands cupping her cheek and bringing her face to his, kissing her sweetly, an urgency riding just under that surface of the soft press of his lips. 

“I can believe it,” she said, letting her fingers thread through the fine, soft locks at the back of his neck. “And that was the hard part, my Da will most certainly agree.”

“Agree to what?” said a voice that Sigrid knew as well as her own. “It certainly looks like congratulations are in order, although it seems to me I would know if my eldest daughter was being courted by the Crown Prince of Erebor.”

“Da!” Sigrid exclaimed, taking a step back, he hands dropping from Fili's hair, although she let him hold one in his, taking strength from their entwined fingers. 

“My Lord,” Fili said formally, bowing his head in respect for Bard's still new position.

“Oh, none of that, Fili, please,” Bard replied, watching the two with an appraising look. “It's just Bard, especially for you, as I have the feeling you're about to ask me if you can marry my daughter.”

Fili looked up at Sigrid, but she could only shake her head, just as surprised as he. She'd thought that they'd been fairly discreet, but apparently, her Da knew her too well. 

“I...yes,” Fili said, squeezing her hand. “My Uncle has given us his blessing, and if you are willing to do so as well, it is the greatest wish of my heart that Sigrid would become my wife.”

Bard stared down into Fili's sincere eyes, his own cold and unemotional, although Sigrid knew the look, and knew he only used it when he had a need to hold back. 

“I could wonder, perhaps, why the two of you saw fit to keep your relationship a secret, but considering the chaos of the last few months and the instability of relations between our peoples, I suppose I can let that go this time.”

“Da, I'm sorry, we just...we didn't want to share,” she said, smiling tenderly at Fili, for the first time unafraid that her feelings were plain in her eyes. 

“You're right, it has been chaotic, and it was nice to have something calm and sure amidst all the uncertainty,” Fili said, continuing her thoughts as if they'd planned it. 

“I can understand that,” Bard said, and Sigrid thought she saw the affection and pride coming out in her Da's eyes. “And it makes me glad to see you so happy, my daughter,” he added, stepping forward to pull her away from Fili, hugging her tightly, a little desperately, but when he pulled back, his eyes were as wet as her own. 

“I love you more than anything else in this world, my sweet daughter. I could not allow you to leave me unless I was sure that your heart was truly given, and to one who was worthy of you. But I've been watching the two of you lately, and I've seen the depth of your affection and respect for each other.”

He took a step back, holding Sigrid's hand as he reached out and took one of Fili's, bringing them together once more. “It would be an honour to consider you my son in law, Fili of Erebor.”

“Thank you,” Fili said, his face trading its worried expression for one of joy, as he entwined his fingers with hers, pulling her close to his side once more. “Then it's official. Once we finish the braids, we won't even have to tell anyone else. They'll all know when they see my bead in your hair.”

“Can we do that now?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Yes, please,” he said, letting her turn them toward their apartment.

“You have beads ready, I assume?” Bard asked, walking beside them, a small smile quirking his lips. 

“Yes, for a few weeks now,” she told him. “Fili found a Durin bead for me in the treasury and I have the beads that mother left me.”

“Your grandmother's beads,” Bard said wistfully. “Very appropriate, I think. They were originally made in Erebor, I believe, before the dragon came.”

“Family beads are ideal,” Fili agreed. “That they are Dwarven made is even better.” 

They walked the rest of the way in silence, Sigrid leaving Fili and her Da in the siting room as she fetched the beads. She set the box on the table and pulled out the bead Fili had given her, and the one she'd chosen to give him. It had a lovely vine motif, and it had been her mother's favourite. Fili took her hand and pulled her to sit on the chair, brushing a hand over her hair reverently, smiling at her.

“I'll do your braid first, so you'll get an idea of where to do it, and I'll show you how to clasp the bead in. It's just a simple three strand braid, nothing terribly fancy. It's the placement and the bead that mark it as a courting braid.”

She nodded, so he pulled the pins that held her messy bun in place, letting her hair fall over her shoulders and combing it out with his fingers. She took a deep breath, shivers prickling across her skin as his gentle, intimate touch. 

“Braids can be symbolic or just for fashion, but they are often used for practical reasons. We don't cut our hair, or our beards, although a short beard like Thorin's is usually a sign of mourning. Long hair can get in the way, especially for miners or those who work in the forges.”

Sigrid nodded. “Will Thorin grow his beard, now that the mountain is retaken?” she asked.

Fili was silent for a minute, pulling out the last few snarls before moving back to where she could see him.

“No, I don't think so. He's not mourning Erebor anymore, it's true, but now...now he's mourning Bilbo. There have been grumblings about why the King of the Longbeards won't grow his out, but Thorin is stricken by grief, so I can't see him growing it out. Not now. Maybe never.”

“It's so sad,” Sigrid said, meeting Fili's downcast eyes with her own. She knew well how much he loved his uncle, and how much it grieved him to see Thorin suffering. 

“Is that part of why you waited to tell us?” Bard asked, sitting down in a chair across the table, watching them intently.

“Yes, that is a part of it,” Fili said. “But it was nice having a secret, in a way.”

“It was a good secret,” Sigrid agreed smiling at Fili, wanting to lean into his touch.

“Right, well,” he said, clearing his throat. “Courting braids. As I said, a simple three strand braid is fine, some choose fancier braids, but I like the simplicity of these. It should start at the peak of the head, though we generally use a portion from underneath the top layer. His fingers continued to stroke through her hair, until he found a piece he liked and separated it from the rest. 

“You'll want to take a nice sized section of hair, how much depends on how thick or coarse the person's hair is, so it will fit well within the bead. You'll need less of my hair, for instance, than I'll use in yours. It may take a few times to get it right, and they can always be rebraided when necessary.” 

Fili had sectioned off the amount he needed, instructing her as his large, blunt fingers deftly twisted the strands together to form a tight, neat braid. 

“Do you always braid your own hair?” Bard asked, and Sigrid was surprised, as she'd forgotten her Da was there. 

“Not necessarily,” Fili said, taking a step back to get the needed tension. “I do my own, by rule, as does Thorin, although when my mother arrives, she'll probably want to do them for me.” Sigrid noticed his eye roll, though his face was wistful and affectionate. “But only close family or spouses braid your hair. It's a fairly intimate act, and the braiding itself is very symbolic for us, so it's not something that's done lightly.”

He was nearing the end of the braid, so he held his hand out and she dropped the Durin bead into it. 

“If you look closely, you can see that the bead is actually a clasp. As long as you have the right amount of hair in the braid, it will attach securely with no issues.” He popped the clasp open deftly with one hand and laid the end of her braid inside it before flipping it shut again. 

“That was easy,” she said, reaching up to feel the braid, and the secure grip of the silver clasp at the end. She let it drop, the weight strange and cool against her neck. 

“You'll get used to it quickly,” Fili said, fingering the bead at the end with hot eyes, his fingers brushing her neck, pulling another shiver from her oversensitive skin. “You can style your hair as normal, tucking it in or leaving it out.”

“I'd rather leave it out,” she said softly, reaching up and catching his hand, brushing a kiss across his palm and thrilling as she felt an answering shiver wash through him. 

“You can also pull it all up in your bun and leave the end out so the bead is visible,” he said quietly, his eyes locked on hers, and when he licked his lips, she felt herself leaning closer. Before she'd got too close, however, her Da cleared his throat, and Fili took a quick step back, his hand falling away from her, though the promise of later was still in his eyes. 

“When will your mother arrive?” Bard asked, and Sigrid wondered suddenly if she and Fili would able to find another moment alone before the wedding day.

“Not before June, I think. Oh, and that's something we should discuss, amralime,” he said, a shiver rippling through Sigrid at his use of the endearment. He'd called her by it before, but never in front of anyone else, and she was fully aware of the significance of it. 

“Oh?” 

“I told Thorin our plan to marry on your birthday...” he began, but was cut off by her Da's wordless exclamation. 

“Your birthday!” he said, eyes wide and stunned. “So soon? I think I should have a say in this, Sigrid.”

“I know, Da,” she said. “Your opinion means a lot to me, of course, but it's just...we'll have so little time together, and we want to get started right away.”

“So little time? You'll have the rest of your life,” he replied. 

“But I won't,” Fili said earnestly. “Sixty odd years is not nearly long enough to live with my beloved, and although the thought breaks my heart, I know I'll spend the majority of my life alone. I'm sorry if it seems soon to you, Bard, but I don't want to waste another day, unless I have to.”

Bard sat still, staring at Fili for several long moments before nodding roughly, and Sigrid knew that he understood. If he'd had the chance for more time with her Mama, she knew he would snatch it up in a heartbeat. 

“All right, I can understand that,” he said. 

“Thank you,” Fili replied with a nod of respect. “But Thorin pointed out, rightfully so, that we really need to wait for my mother to arrive. She'll never let me live if I get married without her here, and that would defeat the entire purpose of moving quickly.”

“Oh, of course,” Sigrid said, stunned at her self absorption. “Of course we have to wait.”

“I knew you'd agree. As I said, she should be here by June, so we won't have long to wait after that.”

“June is much better than April,” Bard said, and Sigrid was pleased that he seemed relieved. 

She stood, breaking up the moment and pulled Fili to the chair, pushing him to sit. She was wearing his braid, it was time to put hers in his hair. 

 

* * *

 

In the end, it had taken a great deal longer for her to braid Fili's hair than vice versa. It took some practice for her to choose the right amount of hair for the bead, as his was indeed much thicker than her own. She was distracted by the arrival of Tilda and Bain, who had stayed behind with Kili and Tauriel, and when the group saw Sigrid braiding Fili's hair under Bard's watchful eye, they were inundated by hugs and congratulations. 

She held onto Tauriel for a long time, smiling brightly as her friend picked up her bead and admired it. It was identical to the one in Tauriel's own hair, from the same stash of Durin beads that Fili had located, and it warmed Sigrid to realise that Tauriel would become her sister in law before too long. 

She was surprised when Kili picked her up, much in the way Fili had when he'd told her the news, and though the hug was much more boisterous, it left her feeling just as dizzy as Fili's had, for an entirely different reason. 

“I can't wait to welcome you to the family, sister mine,” he'd said, and Sigrid had laughed in delight. He was so much older than her, she knew, but in many ways, Kili felt like a younger brother. He reminded her quite a bit of Bain. 

Her own siblings were just as happy, and Tilda was enchanted with the idea of a royal wedding, and all that it would entail, though the look Sigrid shared with Fili told her that he was thinking smaller was better, an idea she would encourage as much as possible. 

Finally she was successful in clasping her bead in Fili's hair, immediately loving the way it was offset from his other braids, falling in a direct, vertical line from the top of his head, while the others were set near his ears. It hung down from below the wide braid that secured most of his hair back, and the wooden bead gleamed darkly in his blond hair. It thrilled her to see it, as it thrilled her to feel the weight of the silver bead in her won hair. 

When it was time for him to take his leave, she pushed aside her hesitance and let him kiss her soundly, her skin prickling with awareness as her tugged gently on her braid, his knuckles resting against her skin. 

“Tomorrow we will find a moment alone,” he said softly, for her ears only. She smiled at him, leaning her forehead to his and answered with a simple, “yes.” They would be together for every tomorrow, for the rest of her life. 

Tilda was right. The Dwarves were very lucky, after all.


	2. His Halls shall Echo Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo spends some time exploring the mountain, and makes a new friend.

The Common Hall was a wonder. Bilbo wandered from stall to stall, shop to shop, without much intent, simply enjoying the bustle of the people around him. It was astounding what had been accomplished in such a short time, especially here, in the massive hall that had at one time been Smaug's lair, the treasury. All the gold had been moved out, counted and stored, hidden instead of spread out in ostentatious display. It was a grand improvement, in Bilbo's opinion. Once cleared, the terraces would have been left bare, so in a stroke of genius, Thorin had turned it into a common area, part marketplace, part food court, part play space. 

Bilbo had been back for several weeks, and in that time he had been blown away by the change. No longer did the stink and sourness of Smaug reign over the mountain. Thorin reigned now, and the whole place was filled with light and noise and life. 

It had been a bit tumultuous, the last few weeks. Oh, not in the violent way, but in a mad, riotous kind of way. Dinner with the company the evening after he'd arrived had been completely crazy, in the best sense. Of course, it had been preceded by numerous rounds of tender, athletic sex, the like of which had also followed dinner. 

And had continued the next morning. And all through the afternoon. 

Oh, they'd napped and eaten whatever Dis had sent up, and they'd bathed in the largest most luxuriant bathroom that Bilbo had ever seen. And then they did it all again. 

Honestly, Bilbo had lost count of just how many orgasms Thorin had drawn out of him. By the evening of the third day he had been utterly spent, and it seemed that Thorin had finally been sated as well. They'd collapsed onto the bed, replete with pleasure, and Bilbo had fallen into the deepest, most contented sleep he'd ever experienced. He'd expected to wake up with Thorin inside him once again, as he had practically every time they'd dozed off, but he hadn't. 

Thorin had still been sleeping. 

Bilbo had thought about waking him up in some lovely, erotic way, returning the favour, as it were, but in the end he'd decided to let him sleep. He'd spoken to everyone at the welcome back dinner, and one thing had been repeated over and over, all a variation on, 'thank Mahal, you're back. Perhaps now he'll sleep for longer than a few hours at a time.'

Everything they had told him all added up to one fact, that Thorin had been lost since he'd left. Undone. He had kept himself afloat by throwing all his energy at the mountain. All his energy, all his intellect, and all the heart that he'd had left to give. 

Which explained the condition of the mountain. Thorin was energetic, exceedingly intelligent, and despite his brusque shell, he had a heart large enough to rival Erebor itself, as Bilbo knew. 

While Thorin slept, Bilbo had taken the opportunity of looking around a bit and searching out some of his friends. He had missed them all, almost as much as he'd missed Thorin. A few hours of visiting at dinner had not soothed that particular ache, so he had gone out looking for them. He hadn't the time to visit them all, but at least he'd found a few, and he felt all the better for it. It felt like he was truly at home, with Thorin sleeping in their bed and his friends close at hand. 

As the day went on he found himself more and more surprised that Thorin hadn't found him as Bilbo had told him to, on the note he'd left beside Thorin on the pillow. After he'd had dinner with Bofur, Bifur, Ori, Nori, and Oin, he'd gone back to the royal apartments and found Thorin still asleep. 

Thorin slept all that day and long into the night. Bilbo had washed up for bed and stood there, looking down at him, his face open and vulnerable in slumber, the stress of so many years wiped away. Bilbo had felt such a surge of love for him, such an overwhelming feeling of rightness, that tears had filled his eyes, unbidden. He wiped them away and crawled into the bed beside his One, knowing he would always think of Thorin that way now. They had been made for each other, he didn't doubt that fact anymore. 

Bilbo curled close to Thorin, still marvelling at how deep he slept, wondering how long he'd stay asleep. He decided then, that if Thorin was still sleeping when he woke up, he wouldn't hold back waking him again.

As it turned out, Thorin woke first, taking the opportunity away from Bilbo, but he couldn't regret it. Not when Thorin had awakened him quite early the next morning, before sunrise, in the most delightful way, his lips wrapped around Bilbo's cock, three fingers deep. 

The rest of the day had been spent in flagrant abuse of the energy Thorin had stored up while sleeping, not that Bilbo had minded. 

It had to end sometime, and it had, barely a week after Bilbo's return. There was still plenty of work to be done in the mountain, and Fili could only fill in for so long, after all. The people demanded their King. As sad as Bilbo was to see their time in semi seclusion end, he was pleased to spend his days wandering the mountain, seeking out all the changes, falling more in love with Thorin with every new discovery, for it was Thorin's mountain, and it reflected all the aspects of his personality. 

It was on one of those excursion that he spied a familiar face, though he'd only seen it the one time. He was quite pleased to encounter it again, so he made his way through the tables in the common eating area, to where his newest friend sat at her lunch.

“Nola, hello,” Bilbo said with a grin, gaining her attention, chuckling at her expression of stunned astonishment. 

“Master Baggins,” she said, standing quickly and bowing her head in respect.

“Oh, no, please,” Bilbo said. “No bowing. And it's Bilbo, if you don't mind.” He'd been bowed at far too many times since he'd started exploring the mountain. It seemed that his association with the King had left him somewhat of a celebrity. Being the King's intended had made him famous enough, but everyone knew by then that he was also Bilbo Baggins, made famous in song, larger than life, and spoken of in hushed whispers.

“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair she had just vacated. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Oh, I...yes, yes please,” she said, and Bilbo knew from the way she stood waiting that she wouldn't sit until he did. 

He took the seat opposite, smiling cheerily as she sat. He continued to smile at her though she looked awkward, picking at her meal without taking any bites. He cleared his throat and she looked up at him, eyes wide.

“So, I uh...I've been hoping to run into you,” he said. “I've been meaning to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?” she asked, her eyes widening further. 

“For being kind enough to stop and ask if I was all right that day. For leading me to the throne room.”

“But...you didn't need me for that. You've been here before! You were here when Thorin Oakenshield took back the mountain! You faced the dragon...”

“Yes, yes, I know all that, of course,” Bilbo said, shaking his head. He couldn't deny any of it, but he hated the attention it brought him. “But I hadn't been here for ages, and I wasn't paying a lot of attention to where things were then, there were far too many things happening at the time.”

“You didn’t even need to do that, though. One word to the Guard and you would have been taken right to the King. Everyone knows who you are, Mister Baggins,” she continued, but Bilbo shook his head again, lifting his hand in a placating gesture and wishing she would just call him by name. 

“Yes, but...I needed to do things my own way. I didn't want a big to do at the gate, I just needed to see Thorin,” Bilbo said, smiling at the memory of that day, of Thorin wrapping his arms around Bilbo and kissing him, of his voice whispering words of love in Bilbo's ear. 

Nola looked at him as if he was crazy.

“So...” she began, tilting her head. “Storming into the Throne Room on a day when everyone would be watching and making a mad, rambling confession of love would avoid the big to do?”

Bilbo stared at her, unsure how to respond. She was right, of course.

“You're right, of course,” he conceded, words echoing thought. “It would have been quieter perhaps, to...well. I didn't want any delay, I suppose, I just needed to see him.” That was something he wasn't keen to remember. Being without Thorin, missing him, aching just to see his ridiculous face...it wasn't good, it had brought out a desperation in him as soon as he'd faced the truth, as soon as he admitted to himself how much he loved Thorin. 

“You love him very much,” Nola said, staring right at Bilbo, her food forgotten. “And looking back, it's clear that he loves you just as much. We all wondered why he was so...stern. Almost sad, it seemed. He was driven and passionate, everyone could see that, even those of us who weren't close to him at all, you know? But months on and he still hadn't grown his beard.”

Bilbo stared back, stunned by what she was saying. It was a glimpse into Thorin's behaviour before he'd come back, and it was becoming obvious that Thorin had been horrible at hiding his feelings. 

“Grow his beard? How was that telling?” he asked. Nola shook her head, chuckling. 

“You have to know how we feel about beards and hair by now,” she said, eyeing him as if he was a bit of an idiot. Perhaps he was, after all. It had taken travelling all the way back to the Shire and finally receiving Balin's letter to make him realise just how idiotic he'd been.

“Oh yes, right,” Bilbo replied. “Cutting it is a sign of dishonour or failure.”

“Or mourning,” she added. “Thorin Oakenshield has worn his beard short since Erebor fell, according to everyone who knows him. It was assumed that he'd grow it out again once the mountain was safe, but he didn't, and no one knew why.”

Bilbo had known how hard that time was on Thorin, but hearing it from an observer outside the Company was shattering. Everyone in the mountain had been privy to Thorin's heartbreak, while Bilbo hadn't even been aware of his own. 

“It wasn't just that, of course,” Nola said. “He didn't seem happy. Everyone else was. The Company, his family, every other Dwarf in Erebor. All of us were happy, but he wasn't.”

“I'll let you in on something that was a secret for a long time, Nola,” Bilbo said, looking around to compose himself before turning back and meeting her eyes. “I wasn't happy either. And apparently, I was the only one unaware of it. Everyone else knew, but I didn't.”

“And are you happy now?” 

“Yes,” he replied, taking a deep breath and letting the reality of where he was flow over him. He was in a beautiful new complex bustling with the lifeblood of the mountain, constructed in the very spot where despair and horror had once taken over Erebor. It was banished now. All of the doubt and fear and loneliness was a memory that would soon be forgotten.

“Yes, I'm happy. I'm finally home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot shorter than the last one...but out quicker because of it. :) Hope you like!


	3. Hope and the Need of Vittles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dis mines for information, and sets her plans in motion.

Dis left the apartment with a happy, self satisfied grin on her face. It had been an excellent encounter, despite the fact that she'd been subjected to a shocking view of her brother's more amorous side. 

On the other hand, she'd been able to humiliate him without actually damaging his ego or reputation, she'd seen him happier than he'd been since...well, she couldn't remember when he'd been that happy. She'd scolded him and teased him and his Hobbit had surprised her with his wit and cleverness, as well as his devotion to Thorin. 

Honestly, she hadn't known what to make of Bilbo Baggins before she met him, and she knew that as of yet she didn't know the half of it. She'd been told many things about him, from the entire Company, but especially Balin, Fili, and Kili. Thorin hadn't actually said much about him at all. She'd been able to get him talking a few times, but it had never lasted long.

Still, she'd been graced with numerous tales of the burglar. His courage, his intelligence, his ability to think quickly and logically, always making the most of any given situation. His determination in the face of incredible odds, and his ability to charm everyone he met, putting them at ease with kindness, compassion, and a wicked sense of humour. She'd been told often about how he was a seemingly soft, biddable creature, but had proven again and again that appearances did not make up the whole picture. He'd been very inexperienced at the start of their journey, but had proven his worth in numerous ways, his loyalty and tenacity shining through when they were in the direst of need. 

It had also been made clear to her that he was a comely creature. Soft and small, practically childlike, as Kili had asserted, although no Dwarfling was ever as slight as Bilbo appeared to be, based on their short meeting, but well formed and agile, possessing a strength that belied his size. Kili and Bofur especially had spoken of his attractiveness, and Ori had given her a portrait he'd sketched, just black ink on parchment, but it had put a face to the descriptions. 

He was indeed a handsome Hobbit, as Hobbits go. Beardless, with relatively short, wavy hair, but he had striking intelligent eyes and a good humoured presence, even on the page. Ori had captured him well, but then, Ori was quite talented at such things, being both observant and skilled with a quill. Her sons had told her that it was an excellent likeness, and when Thorin had seen it he had frozen, picking up the parchment with trembling fingers and wide, stricken eyes. 

Dis had frozen as well, watching her brother with trepidation as he gazed longingly at Bilbo's portrait, wishing suddenly that she hadn't left it on the table beside the couch after asking her sons about it, but had put it away instead, keeping it from Thorin's sight. 

He'd sat down heavily, lowering himself into the nearby armchair without taking his eyes off it. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, and Dis could feel her heart aching as she bore witness to her brother's heart ache. He traced the edge of Bilbo's face with gentle fingertips, his expression turning wistful, his eyes filling with moisture. 

“Ori brought it,” she said quietly, not wanting to intrude on his reverie, but not wanting to leave him lost in painful memories, either.

“Ori has an exceptional talent,” Thorin replied, his voice rough and thick with suppressed emotion. 

“It is a good likeness then?” she asked. 

“Yes, it's...” he trailed off, breathing deep on another sigh. “It's very Bilbo.”

“I think you should keep it,” Dis said, smiling sadly when he looked up at her. He looked exhausted, in body and spirit. And despite all the wonderful things she had been told about Bilbo Baggins, despite the fact that he had rescued not only her brother but her sons along with the rest of the Company, many times, despite the fact that he had been instrumental in the winning of Erebor and was exceptional enough to have captured the heart of her brother, a heart she had truly believed would never find love, in that moment, Dis had hated Bilbo Baggins. 

Hated him for breaking Thorin's heart and his spirit, hated him for gaining Thorin's devotion and then walking away. She'd hated that Bilbo had been able to walk away at all, that regardless of everything he and Thorin had been through together, he'd been able to leave so readily. How wise and kind and intelligent could he possibly be, if he had won something as rare and worthy as the love of Thorin Oakenshield, only to turn away and leave it behind?

Either he had tricked thirteen Dwarves and as Wizard as the the nature of his character, or he was a fool. Dis wasn't sure which option would be worse. 

Dis had been coming out of her room, planning to settle into an armchair with a book, having nothing planned for the day and secure in the knowledge that all of her boys would be in the throne room. For the entire day. 

The anticipation of all that freedom was beautiful. 

Then a resounding crash had come from the sitting room, shattering her solitude and getting her adrenaline pumping. She wondered who on earth could be there, making so much noise. She would have thought that Fili and Kili were wrestling their way into the room as they often did, had she not known better. 

Then came the sound of the door slamming closed once more, so she hurried to the arch and peeked out, not having any real idea of who it could be, and yet, she was still surprised by what she saw. Thorin was on his knees and focused intensely on the person in his arms. A person who was small, so very much smaller than Thorin, and wrapped around him completely, arms and legs. They were kissing messily, the smaller one pushing off Thorin's robe, which her brother shrugged off before tugging Bilbo's jacket off and throwing it aside.

She didn't need to be introduced. She knew it was Bilbo. There was no other possibility, no other person in all of Middle Earth that Thorin would touch in such a manner. The frantic urgency they displayed told the story just as well, and while Dis hadn't met Bilbo before, she knew enough to know it was him, even without the portrait Ori had provided her with. 

She was stunned at just how tiny he was, compared to Thorin. She couldn't tell how tall he was from his current position, but the width of his shoulders was barely half of Thorin's. It was rather alarming. She also noticed that his hair, as unruly as Ori had represented, was a light honey brown colour. 

Dis closed her eyes and took a deep breath, wondering if she should retreat to her room and leave them alone, or speak up and make an escape. Her decision was made before she knew she'd made it, and the look on Thorin's face had been completely worth it. 

Making her escape after was a blessing and a necessity. She knew her brother well, and although they had been leaning to the sappy side before she left, she knew it would turn physical again before too long. She gave up on her reading, as her book as still on the table by her chair, and headed right for the throne room. Bilbo must have sought an audience with the King there, which had no doubt been quite a public spectacle. She knew that she would find Fili filling in for his uncle, and a good thing, too. Her son would need as much practice as he could get before he became King, for all that such a thing was decades, perhaps even a century in the future. The throne room, that at was where she could find the information she was missing. 

Fili was in discussion with a pair of Dwarves with Balin beside him when she slipped in the side door, moving to stand beside Dwalin, who looked down at her curiously. Dis was not in the habit of attending such proceedings, preferring to take advantage of the certainty of a whole day worth of quiet. 

“I hear there was some excitement earlier,” she said quietly. Dwalin grunted a chuckle.

“Indeed,” he replied. “The Hobbit thinks he prefers peace and quiet, but he is as much a drama queen as Thorin is.”

“They are well suited then,” Dis said, and Dwalin chuckled again. 

“Aye, they are.” 

Dis looked up at her old friend, who looked well pleased, his lips curing in a small smile. 

“I'm glad he came back,” he continued. “Thorin would never have recovered from the loss...he would have continued on as he had been these past months, until the end of his days.”

“I fear you're right,” Dis agreed. “Fortunately, the Hobbit came to his senses.”

“We have my brother to thank for that, I believe,” Dwalin said. “Though I'm not sure how exactly.”

“They're due for a break soon, are they not?” Dis asked. It seemed that Fili was finishing up his negotiation and, noticing Dis standing to the side, gave her a nod.

“Aye, after this is finished, I believe.”

They were correct, as Fili called for a short hiatus immediately after the pair of Dwarves left, through the side door opposite the one where Dis had entered. 

He clapped Kili on the back, the pair of them moving to Dis' side quickly, bright happy grins on their faces. Balin followed at a more sedate pace, though he looked as happy as the boys, if more subdued.

“Mother, did you hear?” Kili called out as they neared. “Bilbo is back!”

“Yes, I've seen him with my own eyes. And if I had not interrupted them when I did, I would have seen a fair bit more of him than I would wish.”

Fili and Kili laughed happily, and even Dwalin's mirth overflowed with another chuckle. Balin shook his head at the lot of them, his expression one of fond exasperation.

“Oh aye, I imagine they're well into it by now,” Dwalin said matter of factly. “They never did hold back, did they?”

“Indeed not,” Balin agreed, while the boys shared a look that spoke of their experience with Thorin and Bilbo's proclivities. He gestured on, and they all filed out, slipping into a room just outside the door, where food and drink had been laid out for them. They all took a seat and began to eat, as heartily as they ever had.

“I wouldn't go back to our apartment any time soon, if I were you,” Dis told her sons. “Though I can only hope they took my advice and retreated to Thorin's room before undressing further.”

“Time may have passed, but somethings never change,” Dwalin commented. 

“It was a long separation,” Balin pointed out. “We must allow them some time, after all.”

“You look rather smug, brother,” Dwalin said. “Bilbo said you sent him a letter. What did it say, exactly?”

“Yes, I would like to know that as well,” Dis agreed. 

“I think we all would,” Fili said. “We never thought he'd come back, he was so determined to go home.”

“Aye, he was determined to go home. And I knew all along that he would do it. But I also knew that he loved Thorin, no matter how he denied it. Oh, at first I thought he was simply denying it for some reason only he knew, his pride, or his ridiculous assertions that he is 'just a simple Hobbit'...”

“As if,” Kili interjected with a derisive snort.

Balin gave him an exasperated look and continued. “But then I realised that he truly believed what he was saying. He really believed that he wasn't in love, and that he wanted to go home. I began to realise that he needed to do it, if only to discover that Bag End was not his home any longer, that the Shire did not have what he needed to be happy.”

“Letting him go was inevitable,” Fili said with a sad smile. 

“And his return was also inevitable,” Balin said. “Though I found myself tired of waiting, not knowing how long it would take for him to realise, and with the state that Thorin was in, when the idea came to me, I couldn't let it pass by.”

“What idea are we discussing here, Balin?” Dis asked. “We're all eager to hear it.”

Balin took a look around at all their eager faces and smiled mischievously. “It was perhaps a bit cruel of me really, but I felt certain that it would work. I wrote Bilbo that Thorin was pursuing a political marriage, to strengthen our alliances and possibly father an heir to take the pressure off Fili, as it were.”

Dis was stunned, and looking around, it was clear to her that everyone else was as well. 

“But...Thorin would never!” Kili exclaimed. “Bilbo is his One!”

“Aye, we know that,” Dwalin said, thoughtfully. “And while Bilbo knows it too, he doesn't _know_ it, not the way he would if he'd been raised a Dwarf.”

“Indeed,” Balin said, nodding his agreement. “It was just after Fili had asked for Thorin's blessing on his courtship with Sigrid, and Thorin knew how difficult it would be for them...well, it was an idea that was scrapped as soon as it was spoken, but it stuck with me, and I knew that Bilbo would not react well to it. That he'd be forced to consider why he wasn't reacting well.”

“That was a mighty risk, Balin,” Dis said, shaking her head. “But one well worth taking. Thank you.”

Balin tipped his head in acknowledgement. 

“But why didn't you tell us you'd sent such a letter?” Kili asked. 

“I wasn't certain, not absolutely, that he'd come. And I didn't know when, for that matter. No use in getting everyone riled up, especially considering how observant Thorin is. He would have suspected something eventually, and I could not risk his heart again, not like that.”

“Very wise of you, old friend,” Dis said, smiling at him. “I'm grateful you were here to take care of my brother.”

“At your service,” Balin said, bowing his head, earning a laugh from the rest.

“Speaking of Sigrid,” Dwalin said, fixing his gaze on Fili. “She does not know what is no doubt occurring in your apartment as we speak. She should be warned.”

“Indeed, we wouldn't want to scar her for life,” Kili said with a smirk, tossing at bread roll at his brother's head. “It's hard enough on her, sleeping with you!”

He earned a chuckle from Dwalin, matching scowls from Dis and Balin, and the roll he had thrown tossed back at him, only it was apparent that Fili's aim was better than his brother's as the roll smacked Kili right in the forehead. 

“Quiet, you,” Fili said, grinning as Kili rubbed the spot where the roll had hit him. “You know very well that Sigrid is spending the day in Dale with Tauriel, since we'll be working all day. Though it would not go amiss to send word to the gate that they should find us before going home.”

“They won't be back until after dinner,” Kili added. “We can keep an eye out for them after we've eaten.”

“Good enough,” Fili agreed. “But you realise that we'll have to go back to the apartment sometime, right? I mean, we do live there. We'll need sleep at some point.”

“At least our rooms are on the other side of the common area,” Kili said. “You remember how loud Bilbo is, right?”

“Do I ever,” Fili says with a grimace, which turns into a grin. “Sorry about that, Mum. But we've paid our dues in that regard.”

“We all have,” Balin said, getting a grunt of agreement from his brother.

“Perhaps I'll relocate across the Hall from the two of you,” Dis said sweetly, smiling pleasantly at her boys, sure that neither of them believed her expression of innocence.

“On second thought, Sigrid is even louder,” Kili said, looking innocent himself, mimicking her expression well. He certainly took his looks from her, while Fili had his from their father. As handsome as she thought Kili, she always found herself gazing longer at her older son, reminded almost painfully of her One.

“Oi!” Fili snapped, tossing another roll at Kili and hitting the exact same spot, earning an exclamation of pain from him. “She is not! You're the one who disturbs us, with all the 'practising' you do, preparing for your own wedding night.”

“Hey!” Kili shouted, tossing the roll back at Fili, who caught it neatly before it could hit him.

“That's enough, boys!” Dis cut in, her voice quiet, but firm enough that they both stopped, glaring at each other for a moment before going back to their meal. “I'm not moving, we all know how well stone deadens sound. I doubt you can hear anything of each other unless you're by the door, and I am across the corridor, not beside Thorin's room.”

“Very lucky, that,” Dwalin said, shaking his head.

“Besides, we have other things to discuss, and we need to get the rest of the Company in on it.”

“What are you planning?” Balin asked.

“Nothing big, but I do think we should welcome Bilbo home in a manner befitting how valued he is. We'll have dinner in our apartment tomorrow night, with all the Company. I'm sure everyone will want to see Bilbo, and he will want to see them.”

“That's a fantastic idea, Mum,” Fili said, his glare wiped off by a large smile. “Send a message to everyone, we'll have dinner together tonight and make our plans.”

“And we'll have to make sure that there is plenty of food, in the manner of Hobbits,” Kili added. “After the job we made out of Bilbo's pantry when we met him, I believe he's owed.”

“Then it's settled,” Balin said. “Send out the messages, and we'll go from there. But now, I believe it is time to get back to work, lads.”

His statement was met with twin groans, as Fili and Kili expressed their displeasure.

“Now, now, none of that,” Balin said, pointing at Fili. “You will be King one day, and the more experience you get with such things the better. And you,” he continued, pointing at Kili in turn. “Will be right by your brother's side when that day comes, so you'd better make the most of every learning opportunity.”

The boys shared a look of displeasure, but got up without any more protests, saying their goodbyes before following Balin out the door. 

“They're fine lads,” Dwalin remarked, sitting back in the chair beside her, his expression one of a happy, well fed Dwarf. “They'll rule Erebor admirably, when that day comes.”

“They will,” Dis agreed. “If only their father could be here to see it.”

“He's watching from the Halls of our Ancestors, Dis,” Dwalin said. “And no doubt he's as proud as we all are, seeing them grown into such excellent young Dwarves.”

Dis smiled at him, standing up to press her forehead against his. “Thank you Dwalin,” she said with a smile. “I'll see you at dinner. I have plans to set into motion.”

As she headed out of the room and in search of a messenger, she hoped that all her ancestors would be proud to see the group of them. She had never known finer Dwarves than those who made up the Company, and she was eternally grateful to count them all her friends. 

Thorin was right, of course. Loyalty, honour and a willing heart were worthy above all gold and jewels. And they had those qualities in abundance.


	4. Returning Feet and Voices at the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never a dull moment at a family gathering.

Dis looked around, taking stock of everything. There was a ton of food set up on a long table at the back of the kitchen, with more on counters and in the ice box. Plates and cutlery were also standing nearby, and on another table sat a very large keg of ale and a pile of mugs, another keg nearby. The Company was gathered, all of them, Balin had arrived at last, as he'd been dealing with 'official business', or so he had said. Whatever the delay, he was hear at last, completing the guest list.

Most of the Company had a mug in hand, and the loud, rowdy behaviour was already beginning. Not that she was surprised. It was to be expected when more than one Dwarf was gathered together, even more when the ale was flowing. Dis had been known to get rather rowdy herself, and had tossed her fair share of bread rolls and other foodstuffs. It had been a long time, however and she'd gotten out of the habit after they'd been forced out of Erebor. For many long decades food had been scarce, and not to be wasted so flagrantly. 

Dis smiled at their boisterous antics and childish joy, pleased that she could be a part of it. She'd longed to go on the quest, but had realised very quickly that Thorin would need her more in Ered Luin. It had been one of the most difficult things she'd had to do, staying behind while Thorin led her boys into danger and darkness, but it had been necessary. She hadn't wanted them to go, but she knew that if Thorin retook the mountain, one day Fili would be King. He needed to be a part of the quest, he needed to have that claim over Erebor.

Thankfully, the gamble had paid off, though Dis was not fool enough to believe that it would have happened without the aid of Bilbo Baggins.

Someone's mug spilled onto the floor, and Dis was very glad that she'd remembered to have to carpets removed before the gathering. 

“Oi, Sigrid, you should take this lout of yours and put him to bed!” Bofur shouted across the room to where Sigrid and Tauriel were chatting quietly, away from the chaos. 

“Poor lad can't hold his liquor!” Nori added, shoving Fili with his arm and getting shoved back for his trouble. 

“You pushed me, you idiot,” Fili scoffed, shoving Bofur for good measure. 

“Settle down, all of you,” Dis said, shaking her head at the lot of them. They were going to be far in their cups before the guest of honour showed himself.

'Speaking of,' she thought, looking toward the bedrooms. 'They should be out here by now.'

“Hey, Dis!” Bofur called, his cheery grin in full force, his cheeks already flushed with ale and good humour. “Ya think you could extricate the burglar from your brother's clutches? I'm beginning to wonder if it's really true he's back!”

“Aye,” Gloin called, lifting his mug. “Where's Bilbo?” A chorus of cheers answered his query. 

“Oh, he's definitely here,” Dwalin said, his voice booming above the others. “He ran into the throne room yesterday morning, large as life...or, as small as,” he said, interrupted by uproarious laughter, his own included.

“He ran up to the throne and put that face on, you know the one,” Dwalin continued once he'd composed himself. Dis was beginning to wonder if she should have held the ale back until they began eating. 

“Oh, oh, I remember that face!” Nori cried, sloshing the ale in his mug. “The one where it looks like his smalls are riding up and he gets all determined and tetchy.”

“His rant face!” Ori pipped up, to a resounding cheer. 

“Aye, that's the one,” Dwalin confirmed. “He gets that face on, and he says, as loud as you please, and we all know how loud the wee fellow is...”

“Do we ever!” Dori scoffed, and another laugh swept the room. 

“So he tells Thorin that he was a fool to leave and that he loves him, and he gave away his smial, can you believe it?”

“He gave up Bag End?” Bofur asked, stunned, getting answering nods from Fili, Kili, and Dwalin, who had all been there to witness the event.

“So he said,” Kili confirmed. “Gave it to his cousin, Drobo...something or other, I can't remember all those Hobbit names.”

“Drogo,” Fili corrected. “And then he told Thorin he wants to get married and then, and here I thought Thorin would explode...”

“Bilbo called him amralime!” Kili finished, to the speculative gasps of the others. 

“In front of the whole mountain?” Dori asked, eyes so wide it was almost comical.

“Just like that?” Gloin said at the same time, shaking his head with wonder. “So much for not being in love with Thorin.”

“Well, we all knew that wasn't true,” Bofur added. “It was clear as day after Rivendell that it wasn't just a tumble, for either of them.”

“What happened then?” Dori said, prodding at Dwalin with his mug, ignorant to the sloshing of his ale.

“Then Thorin kissed him, and everyone cheered, us most of all, for we knew just what was going on. And then Thorin shouted to the room that Bilbo had proposed and he had accepted, not that he'd said the words to Bilbo, mind, but since when does Thorin do things in the proper manner?”

“If Thorin had been proper, he'd never had put it to Bilbo before we even left Bag End!” Nori cut in, as crude as ever.

“Oh aye, and at every stop between there and Laketown!” Oin added, earning another chorus of laughter. 

“So then they dragged each other away and out the door, and we haven't seen 'em since!” Dwalin finished, lifting his mug, an exaggerated leer on his face.

“I doubt they've left the bed since then,” Nori added, his leer matching Dwalin's. 

“They definitely made it back here,” Dis pitched in. “I walked in on them trying to tear the clothes off each other!” Perhaps she could have put it a little more delicately, but she knew her demographic after all, so there was no need to mince words. 

The Company howled with laughter, slapping each other on the back in congratulations, as if they'd had something to do with getting Thorin and his burglar back together. 

“Well, they've had the better part of two days to get, ah, reacquainted,” Nori said, earning another cheer. “What say we go in there and drag 'em out?”

Of course they all cheered at that, and while Dis admitted that the sight would be one for the books, she didn’t think Bilbo would appreciate it much, however inured he had no doubt become to Dwarvish behaviour. 

“No, that won't be necessary,” she said, gesturing them all down, creeping in the direction of the bedrooms. “I'll get them myself.” Her declaration was met with shouts of protest, but she hushed them all and left the room, stopping to take a deep breath before heading to Thorin's door. 

She'd given them fair warning in the form of a note on their breakfast tray, which she had left outside of Thorin's door with a knock, repeating it on the lunch and tea trays, each note describing in more detail just what she would do to Thorin if he did not share Bilbo with the rest, and the hour had passed for them to have appeared. It was time. 

She approached the door apprehensively, trying to block out the noise from the common room and listening carefully for any sound coming from Thorin's room. She heard nothing as she crept towards the door, deciding to go ahead and knock, knowing that she could not return without them. Or, without Bilbo, at least.

She heard a bit of murmuring when she knocked, but no one answered, so she knocked again, harder. 

“Come one, you two,” she called out, certain that she had heard some scuffling from behind the door. “Everyone is waiting, and if you don't come out, I won't be able to keep them from coming in after you.”

There followed more scuffling, and Dis thought she was going to have to knock again, but just as she lifted her hand to do so, the door was pulled open and Bilbo was standing there, flushed and slightly mussed, patting his unruly curls back into order.

“Oh, hello,” he said cheerfully, his voice soft and pleasant. “All ready, then?” 

“Yes, if you are,” Dis said, lifting her brow in appraisal. “Though you're a little bit untucked.”

Bilbo looked down to where she was pointing, his cheeks flushing a little darker. 

“Oh, right,” he said, tucking his shirt in and straightening his waistcoat. “How's that?”

“Much better,” she said with a smile. He smiled back and she was struck by how disarming he was. It was clearly an innate part of him, this charming way of setting others at ease. She realised that, although they had been introduced, they hadn't really interacted much yet. She was looking forward to it, and also to seeing how he interacted with the Company. 

“Thank you,” Bilbo said with a nod. “I was trying to be ready on time, but Thorin wasn't really helping much,” he admitted, turning his head and looking back into the room, where Thorin was nowhere to be found. 

“No, I can't imagine he was,” she said. “Where is he?”

“Oh, washing up and getting dressed,” Bilbo replied, a smug, happy look written on his face. 

“No doubt he didn't want to get dressed at all,” Dis said wryly. 

“No, he really didn't,” Bilbo said with a grin. “But I have a certain amount of leverage, which I have put to good use.”

“For which I am owed a debt, might I remind you,” came Thorin's voice from inside the chamber. “Don't think I will forget it.”

“Oh, I know you won't,” Bilbo called back over his shoulder, smiling pleasantly, the only indication of his discomfiture was a slight blush creeping across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

“Come along, Thorin, everyone is waiting,” Dis called, ignoring the muttered curses in Khuzdul that answered her. “Honestly, I don't even know how you put up with him,” she said, to Bilbo.

“There are benefits,” Bilbo replied, and Dis wondered idly what he looked like without a slightly besotted grin on his face. “Though they come at a high cost.”

“Yes, yes, loving me is such a hardship,” Thorin said, coming up behind Bilbo, wrapping an arm around him and nuzzling into the hair at the back of his neck. 

“It is a heavy burden I must bear, indeed,” Bilbo said, his voice sounding exasperated, but his face clearly showed his pleasure. 

“Right then, let's do this,” Thorin said, although he didn't let go of Bilbo's waist.

“Let me go, you brute,” Bilbo said, turning in Thorin's arms and leaning up on his toes to give him a quick kiss. “I'd like to see my friends now, if you don't mind.”

“But you came back for me,” Thorin said, his voice plaintive in a way Dis had never heard before.

“Yes, I did. And I'll be back in your bed in a few hours, you insatiable lout,” Bilbo replied, his hands drifting up to wrap around Thorin's neck, even as Thorin pulled him closer.

“Not too late, I hope,” Thorin insisted, lingering on their next kiss. Dis could understand how easily they got distracted. From the looks of it they were about to get distracted again.

“Not too late,” Bilbo agreed, drawing Thorin's braids through his fingers and then pulling back. “Now let's go. Not only do I want to see my friends, but I'm hungry. Three meals a day, honestly. How can any respectable Hobbit be expected to subsist with so few meals?”

“You are hardly a respectable Hobbit, my Bilbo. But we wouldn't want to get in the way of a Hobbit and his dinner, would we?” Thorin said with a chuckle.

“No indeed!” Bilbo said, pulling out of Thorin's arms and winking as Dis, who winked back. He strode eagerly toward the sitting room with Dis on his heels.

Bilbo stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the rowdy band of Dwarves with a happy smile before striding into their midst without ceremony. It was like a landslide once he was noticed, everyone's attention turning to him instantly. There were loud cheers, greetings, slaps on the back and many rib cracking hugs. 

“Yes, yes, I'm back. Calm down everyone!” Bilbo called over the group, his smile wide and bright, shoving Kili away for the fourth or fifth time. “Let me breathe, will you?”

“You heard him!” Thorin bellowed, a happy smile on his face as well. Dis' heart swelled and ached so much she thought it would break, it had been so very long since she'd seen such a look on her brother's face. Thorin moved past her and grabbed Bilbo around the waist, pulling him out of Bofur's grip, fending off Kili with a shove.

“If you lot can't behave, I'll have to take him away, and you'll miss out,” Thorin growled, clutching Bilbo close.

“Oi, you just want him to yourself!” Dwalin yelled back with a laugh.

“Exactly,” Bofur pointed out. “You've had him for two days, we miss him too.”

“You'll all get a chance,” Bilbo said with a grin, leaning up to kiss Thorin on the cheek. “But as much as I've missed you, I'd like to spend some quality time with the food!”

The Company burst into laughter once more as Bilbo turned toward the food, spotting Sigrid and Tauriel as he made his way across the room. “You two had better come with me,” he said with a smile as he approached them. “Otherwise they'll not be anything left for you.”

They all exchanged hugs, with Bilbo giving particular congratulations to Sigrid for 'bagging her Dwarf', which earned him more riotous laughter, and raised a questioning brow to Tauriel, asking when she'll get hers in the bag.

“Soon, I hope,” she said, turning a bright smile to Kili who was beaming right back at her, his cheeks a bit flushed under his thickening beard. “It is unusual for an Elvish courting to move so quickly, but my Dwarf is a hasty fellow, after all. Allowances must be made.”

“Impatience seems to run in the family,” Sigrid added with a soft look at her husband, wrapping an arm around Fili's shoulders as he moved to stand beside her, his own arm sliding around her waist.

“We had need of haste, amralime,” he said, his expression mirroring hers. Dis wished she could have been present to see their love develop, sure that she would have noticed long before her brother had, but she had been there to see it fulfilled, and that was good enough. 

“Speaking of haste,” Bilbo said. “I haven't eaten since this morning. Let's go!”

And just like that, the party began. The food was mostly demolished, despite Dis making sure that there was copious amounts, and while she had taken into account how much the Dwarves would eat, she had vastly underestimated what a Hobbit could consume. She ended up sending for more, to keep everyone, especially Bilbo, satisfied. 

Bilbo made the rounds of the room once he was done eating, speaking with each of the Company, one by one or in small groups, or in any combination that he came across. There was much laughter and as the night went on they began to burst into song often, and soon Fili and Kili had their fiddles out, Dwalin with his little banjo and Bofur with his flute as Bilbo danced in the table in the midst of them, singing 'The Man in the Moon Came Down Too Soon' at the top of his lungs. 

Balin recounted the tale of Bofur singing that song in Rivendell, to the delight of Bilbo and all the Company, and how it had become a great favourite of Bilbo's after that. Dis thought that would have been a sight to see, Bofur standing amongst the Elves, belting out the song at the top of his lungs. She grinned at the picture Balin painted for her, Bofur had always been a cheerful, boisterous sort, and the tale did him justice well

Dis noticed that her brother joined in occasionally but stayed mostly on the fringes, watching Bilbo with eyes that swung from wistful and longing to hot and smoky. She knew that he would not be held apart from his One for much longer, that their long separation had wrought a fierce need in him, a need to be close to Bilbo, to not let him out of sight. 

Finally the mood settled, and the Company began drifting off, one by one. Tauriel bid them goodnight first, and Kili went with her, returning not too long afterwards, looking flushed and exhilarated, and Dis made a note to keep a close eye on the pair, not that she suspected anything terribly inappropriate. Her boys were raised to respect their courting traditions, after all, and would not push themselves where they were not yet allowed, by Dwarven standards. 

Many courtships ran along a more immediate, physical path, but among royalty it was expected that certain standards would be met, and Kili, as his brother had been, was well aware of the uniqueness and public status of his courtship. He would bear no assertions of impropriety, however much he might wish to give in to his desires. 

Dis determined that they must be married early in the spring, it would be cruel to make them wait much longer. She was certain that Tauriel would prefer to be married under the open sky, and it was fast becoming too cold for such an outdoor event. Decision made, she made a note to talk to the pair the next day. 

Sigrid pulled Fili away not long after that. He protested at first, but one long, heated look from her and his fellows were forgotten as he scrambled after his wife, disappearing down the corridor to the jeers and cheers of the Company. 

A few more slipped away, Gloin and Bombur being the first, followed by Dori, Oin, and Balin. By that time, Thorin was smoking his pipe, ensconced in his customary chair, staring thoughtfully and a bit moodily into the fire. He hadn't even noticed when Dis sat across from him in her chair, picking her own pipe up from its spot on the table and packing it quietly, noticing that, although the party was more or less at an end, he hadn't made a move to pull Bilbo away. Regardless of his desire to have Bilbo to himself, he clearly knew that his love needed this time with his friends, and that he would not keep Thorin waiting for too long. 

Every now and then Thorin sighed, or his lips curved in a small, happy smile, and Dis knew that his thoughts were unceasingly turned to his Hobbit. 

It seemed Bilbo's thoughts were likewise turned toward Thorin, as he pulled himself away from the others shortly after Dis had seated herself and padded across the room to the fire as she lit her pipe, though he didn't seem to notice her presence, either. He didn't speak, simply slipping onto Thorin's lap, curling his large, hairy feet under Thorin's leg as he perched on the other, snuggling down under Thorin's arm, his head resting on one broad shoulder. He reached out and plucked Thorin's pipe from his hand, sighing happily as Thorin's arm slipped around his shoulders, pulling him closer as the opposite hand rested across Bilbo's knees. The Hobbit puffed eagerly before handing the pipe back, leaning back to blow a few round, perfect smoke rings. 

“Hmmph,” Thorin grunted, taking the pipe and drawing on it, attempting his own smoke ring with only moderate success.

“Still needs some work,” Bilbo commented softly, Dis' ears barely managing to hear his words. 

“We can't all have mouths as talented as yours,” Thorin said with a smirk, passing the pipe back to Bilbo.

“Oh, don't sell yourself short, mighty King,” Bilbo said, his voice thick with affection and humour. “You have your talents, even if the art of blowing smoke rings has eluded you these long years.”

“I would love the chance to demonstrate some of those talents, if you would allow me,” Thorin said, taking on a thick, rough tone of voice, one that Dis knew well, although hearing it from her brother was something she could have done without. 

“In a few minutes,” Bilbo relied. “It's awfully nice to sit like this, and I know you'll want to get rowdy once we retire.”

“Indeed,” Thorin said, amusement tinging his voice. “I have a debt to extract from you, after all.”

“Oh, of course,” Bilbo said smugly, handing the pipe to Thorin, who tapped it out into a bowl on the table and set it aside, bringing both arms to wrap tightly around Bilbo, who looked smaller than ever wrapped up in his Dwarf. “I wouldn't expect anything less.”

Instead of replying, Thorin leaned in, pressing their heads together and breathing deeply before taking Bilbo's lips in a delicate kiss, tender and reverent. A bitter ache surged into Dis' chest as she watched, as memories of a time long past buffeted her heart. Time may have moved on, but she could be transported back on a whim, it seemed. There were some aches that never went away, some wounds that never really healed, although they could be learned to live with. 

It didn't take long for the kiss to turn into far more immediate territory, and Dis found herself clearing her throat to gain their attention. The first attempt was not successful, so she tried again, fortunate to catch Bilbo's sensitive ear the second time. 

He pulled back, dodging the lips that chased after his, pressing a small hand to Thorin's chest in defence. 

“We should take this elsewhere, don't you think?” he asked, earning a frustrated sigh from Thorin.

“Do we have to?” he said, kissing Bilbo again. 

“Yes, unless you'd like to do this in front of your sister, one of your nephews and half the Company,” Bilbo said, his head falling back as Thorin's lips slid down his neck. 

“Wouldn't be anything we haven't heard before,” Bofur piped in from across the room, to peals of laughter from the others, minus Kili, who choked. 

“Hearing it is bad enough,” he said, his face scrunched in dismay and no small amount of disgust. “Please, take it elsewhere.”

Bofur slapped him heartily on the back and Kili, inebriated as he was, lost his balance and tipped right out of his chair, prompting a fresh round of hilarity. 

“Fine,” Thorin declared. Standing up suddenly with Bilbo in his arms, though he shifted the Hobbit unceremoniously, throwing his over a shoulder and turning to leave. “I can't think in all this racket, and we've unfinished business to take care of.”

“Good night all!” Bilbo called from his perch, grinning mischievously as he was borne toward the bed chambers, to the delight of the remaining Company, who cheered back heartily. 

Dis smiled at them as they went, the ache in her chest eased to see her brother's happiness complete. After everything that they had gone through, everything that Thorin had accomplished, all without the love and companionship of his One, Dis truly believed that he deserved it. It was about time. 

“Well, that's it for me as well,” she said, standing up, shaking her head at the remnants of the gathering scattered about, the stragglers still drinking heartily. “I expect all of you here bright and early in the morning to clean up, understand?”

“Yes Mother,” Kili and Dwalin recited at once. Kili tumbled off his chair again, overwhelmed with giggles when Dis smacked Dwalin across the back of his bald head. 

“Goodnight, you idiots,” she said affectionately, turning to her bed, a deep contentedness flowing over her. Her family was complete and home, at long last.


	5. We're Best when We're Tender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo owes Thorin a debt, and Thorin demands proper payment without delay.

Thorin carried Bilbo over his shoulder, loving how easily he could manhandle his Hobbit, how responsive Bilbo always was to his desires, as if everything that was in Thorin's head was also in Bilbo's. They truly were made for each other, not that Thorin had any doubts. He'd known it for a long while.

He pushed through their bedroom door, shoving it closed with a thrust of his foot, determined to have his way with the enchanting creature in his arms. He strode to the bed and tossed Bilbo onto it, grinning as he laughed, bouncing a few times before settling. His face was bright with happiness, a sight that made Thorin's heart skip a beat. Bilbo's happiness is his happiness, after all, and having Bilbo in his arms again, having him truly, heart, body and mind, had filled Thorin with such joy, with a lightness that he had never before experienced. It was exhilarating.

“Well?” Bilbo said, drawing Thorin's attention back the the present. “Are you going to ravish me, or what? If I recall correctly, I owe you a debt.”

“Indeed, you do,” Thorin said, his grin turning positively wicked, thoughts of what he would do with Bilbo slipping through his mind, one after another, filling his cock with anticipation. “I seem to remember a blanket promise of 'whatever I desired.' And you'll find that I desire quite a lot.”

“I'm counting on it,” Bilbo said with fiery eyes, his gaze reaching right to Thorin's cock, sending another surge of lust through it. It never failed to amaze him how desperately he wanted Bilbo, how badly he needed him. Far from fading with time and familiarity the feeling, the need only seemed to grow the more they were together.

He growled, bending down to slip his boots off before removing his belt and outer tunic, dropping them heedless on the floor as he climbed onto the bed, pausing at Bilbo's feet and drawing his under tunic over his head, thrilling at the look in Bilbo's eyes as they swept over Thorin's bare chest. He knew that he was strong and well built, but seeing that hot desirous look on Bilbo's face made him proud to be the Dwarf he was. He must be worthy if Bilbo loved him and wanted him.

Thorin had learned well that Bilbo Baggins was worthy above any other in Middle Earth, to be deserving of his love was a treasure beyond compare, far beyond all the gold and gems in his vaults. They were nothing to the gold in Bilbo's hair, to the shimmer in his eyes or the beauty in the curve of his lips.

He leaned down, bracketing Bilbo's head with his arms as he took those soft, sinful lips in a torrid kiss, pressing his half naked body into Bilbo’s, still fully clothed. Even with the layers of cloth between them it was like touching fire, flames of lust licking at his brain, hardening his cock even further.

He ground his erection into Bilbo's, feeling the answering desire pressing heatedly against his. He drew out the kiss, lapping into Bilbo's mouth with a wet, sloppy tongue. He'd never been one for the messy or filthy, but the desire that Bilbo had awakened in him was heedless of such things.

“Thorin, please,” Bilbo said, pushing at his chest, shoving him up so that he'd have room to undo his buttons. He'd only managed one when Thorin grasped his hands, holding both above his head with one hand.

“Oh no you don't,” Thorin scolded him. “At my discretion, as you promised.”

“But you're half naked and I'm not even...”

“As much as I enjoy seeing your skin, I'll be disrobing you in my own time, if you please.”

“I don't, I'd rather be naked under you...feeling your skin on mine,” Bilbo pleaded, and if Thorin hadn't set his mind already, he'd be sorely tempted to give in, especially when Bilbo thrust his hips eagerly. Thorin sucked in a deep breath, willing himself to calm.

“You are a wicked, tempting creature, Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin said, leaning down to suck a mark onto Bilbo's neck before continuing. “And I will have you however I wish. When I wish.”

Bilbo was groaning and gasping, his hips rolling into Thorin's in a stuttering rhythm. Thorin bit and sucked his way down Bilbo's neck and across the collar of his shirt, dipping under the fabric to lick the dips of Bilbo's collarbones. The moan shuddering from Bilbo's lips was delicious, and Thorin wanted more, wanted with a fierceness that would have alarmed him, had he not totally given himself over to it many moths ago. It had alarmed him, in fact, before he had succumbed to it. The torture of it had had him acting like a fool, rude and defensive and hardhearted, until Bilbo stood up to him and made him see how empty and lonely his life was.

All that had changed now. Bilbo had taken his life and remade it, better than Thorin could ever had managed himself. Thorin was self aware enough to know that he was lost without Bilbo. He had been lost before they'd met and lost again after he'd left. Now that Bilbo was back, Thorin would never let him go willingly, never again.

Bilbo was gasping for breath, and Thorin was reaching a turning point, the taste and feel of Bilbo under him was pushing him ever closer to his peak, but it was too soon. He had all night with Bilbo at his whim, and he was not going to waste it.

He pulled back, taking in the picture of Bilbo flushed and panting, hair mussed, his pupils blown and his cheeks and neck raw, reddened from Thorin's lips and his beard. He was whining with frustration, his cock hard as iron through his trousers.

Thorin was ready for more, ready to see that flush spread across the rest of his skin, to see the marks that he planned to leave down Bilbo's chest, to see the beard burn extend further across his creamy skin.

“I'm going to let you go now, and I want you to keep your hands where they are, understand?” He knew that Bilbo would not want to follow his instructions, but he would, if only to prove that he could, that he would keep his promise.

“But I...I want to touch you,” Bilbo pleaded, his eyes hot on Thorin's. “I want you to touch me...”

“Oh, I'll be touching you, all right,” Thorin said. He sucked roughly on Bilbo's bottom lip before he let go of his hands, sitting up astride Bilbo's hips and pulling first one, then two buttons undone, spreading Bilbo's shirt to expose the top of his pale, heaving chest. He leaned in again, sucking marks onto the newly exposed skin, unable to resist a bite or two as Bilbo writhed under him.

“Thorin please!” Bilbo pleaded, his hips thrusting more desperately now, a whine starting in his throat and surging through his clenched teeth. Thorin could see how close he was, he'd seen that look before. He thrived on that look.

“Go on, amralime,” Thorin said his voice thick with emotion and arousal. “Go on, come for me, Bilbo.” He pushed his erection into Bilbo's, frotting against him in a smooth rhythm, certain it wouldn't take long, and his suspicions were proven accurate.

He bent over Bilbo once more, laving a stripe up Bilbo's neck and into his mouth, ending the kiss with a bite, dragging his teeth over Bilbo's bottom lip and thrilling at the shudder he gave as he came, hot and wet and sticky in his trousers, and to his surprise, Bilbo's hands remained above his head, clenching and unclenching as he rode out his climax, hips rolling into Thorin's in small bursts of movement, seeking the last bit of pleasure that he could wring from the moment.

Thorin pulled back quickly, needing some space, some distance from Bilbo's wrecked, shuddering frame. His cock was throbbing in time with his heartbeat, and he knew that if he stayed close, if he gave into the temptation to rub against the evidence of Bilbo's desire, that he would follow his lover into climax. He wanted to hold back, to draw it out, he wanted to pull at least one more orgasm from his Hobbit before he took his own pleasure, two, if he could manage it.

He undid the buttons of Bilbo's waistcoat, drawing it up over his shoulders and down his boneless arms, pulling it out from under him and tossing it aside.

“Thorin, I...” Bilbo said, his breathing slowing as he slipped down from the height of afterglow, still looking more delicious in Thorin's eyes than the most sought after delicacy Middle Earth could provide.

“I'm sticky,” Bilbo finished, his nose wrinkling endearingly, and Thorin felt a surge of affection.

“I'm sure you are,” he replied, slowly undoing Bilbo's shirt, one button at a time, letting his fingers brush against Bilbo’s bare skin.

“Are you going to take my pants off, or am I to sleep in them tonight?” Bilbo asked, his voice light but sarcastic, and Thorin leaned in, teeth nipping at Bilbo's neck with force, knowing that it would hurt, just enough.

“Ow! Thorin!” Bilbo exclaimed, but Thorin bit off the protest, literally, taking Bilbo's bottom lip within his teeth once more. He'd found it was an easy way to quiet the usually loquacious Hobbit, and found that he loved the grunt of pleasure Bilbo let out when he did it, usually followed by a questing tongue.

“I told you,” he said, responding at last to Bilbo's demand. “I'll undress you when I'm good and ready, and not a moment before.” He slipped a few more buttons out of their holes as he spoke, spreading the fabric even wider across Bilbo's chest.

“But, I...” Bilbo tried again, Thorin cutting him off with a look.

“I am not done with you yet, Hobbit mine,” he said with a wicked grin. “Now relax and enjoy yourself. I want you shuddering beneath me again, and I will have it. After all,” he bent closer, pressing himself against Bilbo, skin to skin, and whispered in his ear, “I was promised that I could do with you whatever my heart and my cock desired, was I not? Did I not keep my half of the bargain?” He raised a brow questioningly, chuckling at Bilbo's whine of frustration.

“Yes, you did, but...”

“No buts,” Thorin insisted, nipping at Bilbo's jaw, keeping him on edge and waited, waited for the response he wanted, the evidence that Bilbo's body was giving in to his ministrations, his cock rising once more to Thorin's will.

He let his lips slide across Bilbo's neck and shoulder, pushing his shirt down as he went, pulling it under Bilbo's back...his weight was nothing against Thorin's Dwarvish strength. The fabric yielded, and soon Bilbo's hands were clenching the bedcovering by his hips, his arms trapped by his shirt, only pulled halfway off.

Thorin's mouth continued its path down Bilbo's body, drawing marks to the surface where ever he chose, biting gently and laving the marks with his tongue before moving on the the next, each taste of Bilbo's skin pushing Thorin higher, his head spinning as his cock throbbed.

It was pushing Bilbo as well. Thorin could feel his cock rising once more, responding to the sensory overload. He grinned against Bilbo's skin, moving further down and letting his tongue play in Bilbo's navel, thrusting into the little divot with a rhythm that spoke of things to come, of pleasures they would taste again soon.

But not yet.

He wanted Bilbo to come again, one more time before Thorin drew his trousers off, though he moved yet further down Bilbo’s body, with purpose, knowing how he was going to pull Bilbo's next orgasm from his sensitive, quivering body.

He let go of Bilbo's shirt, trusting the Hobbit's body weight to hold his arms in place as he unfastened to laces holding Bilbo's trousers together, exposing his come soaked underclothes to Thorin's hungry gaze. Thorin could not help himself, the scent of Bilbo and sex rose ever thicker from Bilbo's groin as his head dropped, nosing along the tacky fabric and breathing deeply, wanting nothing more than to clean the mess from Bilbo's skin with his tongue.

So he did just that, tugging both articles of clothing down and under Bilbo's arse as his tongue swept methodically across the sticky skin of his groin and navel, the taste of Bilbo strong on his tongue as he worked toward his purpose. That Bilbo's cock was filling quickly, rising to the heat of his mouth, was a bonus, one he intended to exploit fully, Bilbo's intensifying moans urging him on.

When he had removed all traces of come from Bilbo's groin, he turned his attention to the erection that was rubbing wetly against his cheek, taking the head in his mouth and giving it a swift, heady suck before letting it go, sliding his mouth down the shaft to remove any remnants of the first climax.

He was very thorough, only returning to take the shaft between his lips when all traces were gone, shifting the focus of his attention from the result of Bilbo's first climax to the culmination of the upcoming second.

He knew it was coming soon, the weight of Bilbo on his tongue, the swell of his cock head and the salty, fresh surge of precome all confirming his suppositions. He bobbed his head quickly, letting his tongue play across the underside of Bilbo's cock as he rose and fell, taking more in with each pass, until his nose was pressed snugly against the patch of fur at the base of Bilbo's shaft, the head securely down his throat. He pulled off and took a deep breath before diving in again, feeling the small ineffectual tugs on his hair that told him Bilbo had managed to loosen the grip of his shirt, grasping Thorin's hair in eager desperation, a whine rising into gasps of shock and pleasure as Thorin took him in again and again, until at last he felt the head thickening against his palate, and when he let his throat open to take all of Bilbo once more, he swallowed around the intrusion, letting his throat muscles wring out Bilbo's second climax of the night.

He pulled back, just enough so that he could taste the splash of come on his tongue, drinking it down, the elixir of desire that Bilbo gifted him with a balm to his soul as it stoked the fire in his cock ever higher. Bilbo's broken vocalizations were like music in his ears, and he pulled back with reluctance, leaving no trace of come behind to mess with his lover's Hobbitish sensibilities.

“Thorin!” Bilbo panted, his voice thready and weak, the sound of it shivering the same as his legs, shaking with the overwhelming sensation, the pleasure. 

“Mmm,” Thorin hummed, lapping at Bilbo’s softening cock, relishing the renewed tremor or his muscles with every pass. “Your pleasure is the greatest gift that has ever been given to me,” he said, pushing himself up over Bilbo’s body to reach his lips, sharing the taste of that pleasure in a tender kiss. When he pulled back he pressed his face into Bilbo’s neck, breathing the scent of him in, clean skin under sweat and sex, mingled with Thorin's own scent. It was heady and exhilarating, and it was far, far too arousing. 

Thorin sat up, still straddling Bilbo’s hips, pulling Bilbo up as well and tugging the shirt off him completely. He ran his hands up and down Bilbo’s back, which was all firm muscle under satin skin, a touch of softness still carried on his frame, a testament to his race, one that Thorin would never see him lose again. 

Bilbo lay limp in his arms, his breathing slowed and his head hung back, eyes closed and mouth slack as he recovered from his second climax. Thorin was ever so tempted by that mouth, knowing well the pleasure that awaited him between those lips, but he pushed the thought aside. He had more to accomplish, more pleasure to draw from Bilbo’s body. There was his own, of course, which he would take in due time, but he would continue Bilbo’s as well. 

One more. He could get one more, if he was patient. He found that, now that Bilbo had returned to him, patience was possible, even beneficial. 

“Don't fall asleep,” he told Bilbo as he laid him back on the bed gently, stroking his hands down Bilbo’s arms and back up his chest, tilting his face for another kiss, deeper, prodding at Bilbo’s tongue with his own, to pull him out of his stupor. 

“Sleepy,” Bilbo mumbled, but his hands came up and gripped Thorin's arms, rubbing up and down until eventually sliding up his neck, fingertips tracing the line of Thorin's cheek and jaw. Thorin loved it when Bilbo scratched his fingers through his dark beard, which was growing longer everyday. He would not shave it again, and soon he would proudly wear a braid and bead, as befitting his position. 

“Your debt is not yet paid,” Thorin said, but Bilbo merely hummed, and Thorin knew he would have to find another way to wake him up again, but for now he shifted to the side, draping an arm and leg over Bilbo’s prone form, the stillness and distance letting his own erection subside. It was still hard as diamond, but his need wasn't as immediate. That was the problem with his plan, the one thing he knew could undo him. His desire for Bilbo was all consuming. 

After several long, moments of watching Bilbo doze, his pressing need and unfinished business pushed him to get up, to get on with his plans. He pulled back, shifting away Bilbo and rolling off the bed, ignoring the plaintive whine that followed him as he moved across the room. 

He went into the bathroom and came out with a bowl of water and a cloth. Although he'd cleaned Bilbo thoroughly with his mouth, he knew that a cold, wet cloth would shock Bilbo awake. He may not like it, but he'd forgive Thorin well before his next orgasm was drawn out of him. 

Thorin put the bowl on the bedside table, his gaze taking in the picture of Bilbo, who was a complete mess but was dozing peacefully on the bed, his trousers were still only half off and his hair was messier than usual. The marks Thorin had left on him bore witness to the evening's events. He brushed his finger over them, starting on Bilbo’s neck and tracing down over his chest to the lowest, which was just over his hipbone. 

Bilbo shuddered, his muscles responding to Thorin's touch even in his slumber. Thorin grinned affectionately, loathe for the moment, to wake Bilbo up, knowing well that he needed recovery time if he was to climax again that night, but unwilling to wait much longer. He wanted to see those eyes wide with lust, hear all the delicious sounds that Bilbo made when Thorin took him apart with need. 

He grasped Bilbo’s trousers and pulled them off quickly, letting his hands roam up Bilbo’s body, because when his Hobbit was bared to him, he simply couldn't resist. Bilbo's skin was so very soft with only a smattering of hair on his legs and chest. He had a lovely trail of it leading from his navel to his groin, ending in a soft, curly bush around his cock, but there was almost none on his chest, which had been odd to Thorin at first, though oddly alluring. 

All of the touching was making Thorin's neglected erection surge once more, so he turned to the bowl, wetting the cloth and wringing out most of the water, sitting beside Bilbo on the bed before wiping the chilled cloth across his collarbone. 

It worked like a charm. Bilbo gasped, his eyes flicking open in alarm, gazing up at Thorin with wide, shocked eyes. Thorin grinned down at him and dragged the cloth over his chest to his navel. 

“What are you doing?” Bilbo asked, his voice pitched higher than was usual. 

“Cleaning you off,” Thorin said innocently, rinsing the cloth in the water before continuing his ablutions, this time rubbing the cloth across Bilbo’s groin, paying special attention to his soft cock. 

“Ack!” Bilbo squawked, coming awake in an instant, his hands pushing at Thorin's, trying to dislodge his grip. Thorin climbed fully onto the bed, moving between Bilbo’s legs, pushing them aside as he continued, moving further down to press the chilled fabric against the loosened pink whorl below. 

“Stop, it, you brute! It's cold!” Bilbo cried, trying to sit up, but Thorin pushed his legs wider, forcing him back onto the bed, tossing the cloth onto the table beside the bowl. 

“As you wish,” Thorin said obligingly, pulling Bilbo’s legs up over his thighs so that his cock pressed against Bilbo’s backside, which squirmed enticingly in response. 

“You...you did that just to wake me up,” Bilbo accused, lying back and glaring at Thorin.

Thorin's only response was a smirk and a wink before he leaned down and took Bilbo’s lips in a tender kiss, letting his tongue play with the curve of Bilbo’s lip before dipping in to taste, drawing Bilbo’s tongue out to duel with his, unable to hold back a groan as Bilbo deepened the kiss, his hands tangled in Thorin's hair, pulling him down. 

Thorin let him, bracing himself on his forearms, soaking in Bilbo’s kisses, his hips thrusting against Bilbo’s ass instinctively, the friction making him shiver with need. It was too soon for that, so he pushed himself up, letting his hands slide across Bilbo’s hot skin, down his thighs and then under, groping his plump cheeks, pulling them apart and squeezing them together in time with the throbbing in his cock. 

“Are you going to take me sometime tonight?” Bilbo said impatiently, though it appeared to Thorin that he was wide awake now, in no danger of slipping back into a doze. 

“Now that you're actually paying attention, I may get around to it,” Thorin replied. “Be patient Master Hobbit,” he continued, leaning down again to let his lips follow the trail they'd taken before, over the marks he'd already left on his skin. He could feel Bilbo’s cock awakening again, so he shifted further and took it into his mouth, still soft but stiffening on his tongue, the taste of come still present, however faint. 

“Thorin, what are you doing?” Bilbo asked, shifting up onto his elbows and watching avidly despite his protest. Thorin merely hummed in response, lifting his gaze to meet Bilbo's eyes. He loved the wide eyed desire he saw in them, it was a look he never tired of.

“You've already done me. Twice! It's your turn,” Bilbo insisted, but Thorin ignored him, continuing his rhythm until Bilbo's cock was properly hard, then he pulled off at last and moved down further, sucking gently on Bilbo's sack. He felt Bilbo fall backwards onto the bed, unable to keep from grinning. Bilbo was his again, once more consumed by his desire. 

He continued from there, sliding his hands up Bilbo’s thighs, loving the difference in their sizes as his hands encompassed most of Bilbo’s legs, pushing them up and back so that his hole was exposed, dark pink and still slick, still loosened, although it had been hours since Thorin had last been inside him. Mere hours, and it felt like an eternity. 

He wanted in, but not yet. Not until Bilbo was properly ready for him. 

He pushed Bilbo’s thighs back further, pinning him handily, although with hands lose, he knew that Bilbo would be tugging on his hair before too long, looking forward to it, but for now, he had a plan to fulfil. He leaned in closer, breathing deeply of the most intimate scent, of the clean, musky smell of Bilbo’s inner core. It was intoxicating, and he had to close his eyes and breathe to calm his raging desire. When the time came, this would be over quickly. 

Opening his eyes, Thorin set to his purpose, licking a swath from the bottom of Bilbo's crease to the top, letting his tongue dip ever so slightly into Bilbo’s twitching hole as he went. He did it again and again, pushing in further each time, feeling Bilbo grip his hair, a long, drawn out moan torn from his lips as Thorin dove in again, this time pushing his tongue inside determinedly, pressing against the already lose muscle of Bilbo’s hole and opening it further. 

He thrust in and out repeatedly, a sensual foreshadowing of what was to come. Bilbo was pulling steadily on his hair now, a beautiful, high pitched whine escaping his clenched teeth and Thorin pulled out, pressing his tongue against the ridges of skin, sucking lightly. Bilbo yelled, gasping for breath as Thorin plied him with sweet torture, dipping in and out only to lick from top to bottom again, always pushing a little further but never settling in one place. He wanted Bilbo on edge, ready to come once he was inside, his inner muscles tight around Thorin's cock, milking his orgasm skillfully. 

Finally he could stand it no longer...he had to be inside. It was time. 

Bilbo was panting and writhing once more, his cock hard, a deep, lovely red, laying high and flat on his stomach. Murmured, unintelligible sounds spilled from Bilbo’s lips. Thorin pulled all the way back, letting Bilbo’s legs drop momentarily as he unfastened his own trousers, pulling desperately at the laces. He slid them over his hips quickly, pushing them off with a haste borne of great need. 

“Yes, please, Thorin, please,” Bilbo pleaded, and finally, finally, Thorin was ready to comply. He needed to be inside Bilbo before his cock exploded and he came in his small clothes, untouched. It would be most undignified, a wasted opportunity. 

“Yes,” Thorin replied, lifting Bilbo's legs once more, draping them over his arms as he moved into position, letting his cock slide across Bilbo’s hole, back and forth in the crease between his cheeks, slickened by the precome leaking from his aching, tender cock, knowing that he would need more slick if he didn't intend to hurt Bilbo. 

He reached up and grasped the bottle he'd left beneath his pillow, knowing that he'd be able to use it that night, gratified that it was finally time. Finally his turn. That didn't stop him from stroking Bilbo’s cock a few times, squeezing to ensure that it was still hard. Bilbo would come again before he did, he was determined. 

He uncapped the vial of oil and tipped it, letting a slick stream drip down between Bilbo’s cheeks, over his hole and further, where it was stopped form dripping onto the bed only by the tip of Thorin's cock. It pressed lightly on the precipice, collecting the oil, moving back and forth with tiny, instinctual movements, spreading it around for a long, torturous moment before pushing inside. Thorin let loose a moan from deep inside his chest when the tip of his cock breached the rim, catching on the ridge of muscle before sinking further, through the second ring and deep, deep into Bilbo’s receptive body. 

Thorin was all but growling now, the intense squeeze and eroticism catching up with him, the sensation of being inside Bilbo at long last overcoming him. He had to stop, frozen part way in, frozen until he could breathe in some calm, allowing his cock to adjust, allowing Bilbo to adjust as well, although loosened and used as his hole had been for the last two days, it was no great twinge that caused Bilbo to groan and gasp, his hips canting ever so slightly, pinned as he was beneath Thorin's powerful body, his cock heavy and weeping onto his belly. 

Thorin pulled out and buried himself completely inside his lover's arse, repeating the motion again and then again, angling himself to prod at the spot he knew would have Bilbo come undone, but his thrusts were hardly rhythmic, as close and needy as he was. 

Bilbo was all but yelling his moans as Thorin nudged his prostate repeatedly, his thrusts slow and barely controlled. After a few strokes he began to push harder, his thrusts coming faster and deeper with every shift of his hips. 

Bilbo was babbling, meaningless syllables slipping from his lips as Thorin pounded him enthusiastically, his peak surging up. He knew he would not last, but clenched his jaw, determined to wait until Bilbo had come once more, needing to feel the tight squeeze of Bilbo’s release around his cock. 

He let one of Bilbo’s legs fall, reaching down and grasping Bilbo’s cock and tugging without finesse, pulling on it in the hope that he would come soon, for Thorin was caught in the sweet torture of Bilbo’s body, seeking the reward for his patience. Finally, when he thought he could hold back no longer, Bilbo’s cock tightened and surged in his hand, painting Thorin's hand and Bilbo’s belly with long ropes of come.

Thorin did not last after that. One, two, three...four more thrusts and he was loosing inside Bilbo’s receptive body, roaring with the release as Bilbo’s hole tightened around his aching cock. Bilbo was wailing and gripping Thorin's shoulders with exceptional force, and Thorin was amazed at how he never failed to throw himself into Thorin, into his arms, his heart, his life, and each time he did, Thorin needed him more. It was overwhelming, and all he could think as he panted and gasped, muscles shaking from his all consuming climax, was that it couldn't happen again. 

He couldn't lose Bilbo again. He would lose himself, lose his mind, if Bilbo ever left him. Then he realized, harsh and sudden, that Bilbo was not a Dwarf. Oh, he knew that well, and it was all wrapped up in why he loved Bilbo, but for the first time it really sank into his brain that Bilbo would die before him. They had fifty, maybe sixty years left together, and then Bilbo would be gone and Thorin would be alone again. 

His muscles gave out as his control broke, his cock sliding out of Bilbo as his body slipped to the side. He pulled Bilbo against him, wrapping him in both arms and tangling their legs together, pulling him up so that his face was pressed against Bilbo’s neck, hot anguished tears spilling from his eyes. His long sought after climax had wrenched all control from him, physical and emotional at once. He shook with the force of his despair, aware that Bilbo’s body had tensed in his arms, alarmed.

“Thorin,” he said softly, carding his fingers through Thorin's thick hair in a soothing rhythm. “Please, amralime, what's wrong?”

“I...I can't,” Thorin tried, gasping as the emotions shook him to the core. He held Bilbo tighter, knowing he'd have to let go before he cracked a rib, but unable to force his muscles to loose. 

“Please, love,” Bilbo said, dropping his head to breath deep into Thorin's hair, cradling him tenderly. “You're scaring me. I'm not leaving you again, I'm here, I'm sorry Thorin, so sorry I left you. I hadn't the foggiest idea it would hurt you so much.”

“You will, though,” Thorin said, his voice a mere whimper. It was ridiculous, he was a Dwarf of the Line of Durin, he was Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. He had survived the attack of the dragon and had protected and cared for his people in the wild. He had laboured for decades to make a new home for them, had fought the Battle of Azanulbizar and the Battle of the Five Armies, he had slain the Defiler himself. There were many other accomplishments as well, overcoming tremendous disadvantages and obstacles. He was a Dwarf carved from the strongest rock by the hands of Mahal himself. His triumphs were many and his defeats were few, and yet there he was, sobbing his heart and soul out onto a Hobbit, a soft, simple, ridiculous creature. 

It was hardly befitting for a powerful Dwarf King to be in such a position, and yet, there was nowhere else he would rather be. He knew that Hobbits, despite appearances, were courageous and honourable and kind beyond measure. He knew that his Hobbit was the best of the lot, he was stronger in his flexibility than Thorin could ever hope to be. He was brilliant and funny and cunning and compassionate and everything that was worthy and valuable. 

Thorin would be nothing without him. 

“I will what?” Bilbo asked, his lips brushing across Thorin's forehead in tender, affectionate kisses. 

“You'll leave me,” Thorin told him, pulling back to stare desperately into Bilbo’s clear grey eyes. “One day you'll die and what will happen to me then, Bilbo Baggins? I've been without you, before we met and after you'd gone, and if there's one thing all of that has taught me, it's that life without you isn't worth living.”

“Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo said, his eyes clouding with sorrow and compassion. “We have many years to enjoy before I pass on.”

“I know, and to you it will be half your lifetime,” Thorin said, his eyes and his chest aching, although he'd managed to regain control of himself. “But for me, Bilbo...I've already lived almost two hundred years, but I may yet live another hundred. I can't face the thought of being without you for half that time.”

“And yet, you will have to come to terms with it,” Bilbo said softly. “There's nothing that can be done, Thorin. We are who we are.”

“Yes,” Thorin said, tucking his head back into Bilbo’s neck, breathing deep, memorizing him, determined to spend the time they had emblazoning Bilbo onto his brain and heart, even more than he was already. “I'll try. I'll do my best, but Bilbo...”

“Hmm?”

“I can't pretend that I'll be okay. I can't pretend that life without you won't be empty and agonizing. Don't ask me to pretend, please. Allow me this despair.”

“I will,” Bilbo agreed, squeezing Thorin tighter. “As long as you promise not to give into it while I'm here. I'd like to enjoy every second of my time with you, and I expect you to do the same.”

“Agreed.”

They held each other in silence, and soon Thorin felt himself slipping into a deep, healing sleep. Despair and loss loomed in front of him, but for now he was safe in Bilbo’s arms. He would take it while his could. He would do as he had promised, not giving in to despondence while Bilbo was yet warm and alive in his life. 

The time would come soon enough when they would be parted. He would not hasten its arrival, nor waste what was with what must be.


End file.
